


The Woes Of A Single Father

by VivianKai



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Brother Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Dad Bruce Wayne, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Implied Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne - Freeform, It is AU so don't expect everything to follow the canon, M/M, Minor Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Other, Past Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Protective Bruce Wayne, Single Parent Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivianKai/pseuds/VivianKai
Summary: Bruce Wayne; a successful businessman, wealthy billionaire, ladykiller, and the father of four juvenile boys. The man is said to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth and was granted with the perfect life. But many didn't know Bruce is a single father having struggles with parenting. "I've accepted the fact that I might never found someone who could love the boys as much as I do. I'm determined to raise them as a single father. I never counted on fate to bring Superman to my life."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 「ADDITIONAL INFORMATION」  
> ❈ Dick Grayson: 13 years old  
> ❈ Jason Todd: 10 years old  
> ❈ Tim Drake: 8 years old  
> ❈ Damian Wayne: 5 months old ⇾ 6 months old (Chapter #4)  
> ❈ Pairings mentioned: past BrucexTalia, future ClarkxBruce  
> ❈ Clark Kent (Superman) only start appearing in chapter #5  
> ❈ The characters' personality might not be followed completely since my knowledge of DC is mostly based on the movies, cartoon series and self-research on the internet.

There **must** always be a struggle

between **a father** and **a son** ,

 **One** aims at power

and **the other** at independence

by Samuel Johnson

* * *

 The figure on the bed groaned as the crimson red curtain of his room pulled apart. The bright sunshine hit his face, and the sleep-deprived man pulled his blanket over in a stubborn attempt to get another minute of precious rest.

"I would like to remind you that Miss Vicki Vale would arrive soon in an hour, Master Bruce. As your butler, I **highly** suggest for you to get out of the bed **in this instant** and tidy up your appearance. The boys are awaiting you to have breakfast together in the dining room."

With another groan, Bruce pulled the blanket off himself and tousled his messy bed hair. Reluctantly, he accepts the bathrobe offered by his butler who was standing beside him. With a few mumbling complaints, the man made his way towards the bathroom.

"What's the schedule today, Alfred?"

The male in the bathroom asked as he turned on the faucet of the sink. Cupping a handful of water, he splashed the cold water on his face to fresh up himself from the drowsiness of sleep.

"Aside from the interview with Miss Vicki, there was also a call from the elementary school today. The principal requested a talk with you about Master Jason's behavior in school."

The man sighed under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Let me guess... **another** fight? Or skipped classes?"

He could already predict that today was another busy day without any breaks for himself.

* * *

As Bruce walked down the stairs, loud yelling echoed right into his eardrums. The source of the noises came from the dining room, and the man could only give out a groan of disbelief as he walked into the dining room along with his butler.

"Jason! That is **MY** croissant! Give it back to me! "

"Try and get it back then, Timmy!"

"Jay, I honestly think you should give the croissant back to Tim before Bruce arrives- oh hey, Bruce!" Dick Grayson, the eldest adoptive son, greeted upon noticing his father's arrival.

The duo who had been quarreling stopped their argument in an instant. Jason Todd rolled his eyes as he loosened his grip on his younger brother's collar. Tim Drake immediately lost his balance and fell from the chair he was standing on.

"Ow!" The eight years old exclaimed out in pain as he fell head first on the marble floor. Rubbing the back of his head, the eight-year-old watched as his older brother ate his croissant

"Jason, you're a **jerk**!" Tim hissed out in anger, his hands balled into fists as he tried to calm himself down. Jason only smirked back as he stuck his tongue out at the younger boy.

"Jason, apologize to Tim."

The smirk on Jason's face curled down into a frown as his eyes met with the stern gaze of his adoptive father. Stubbornly, the boy crossed his arms over his chest as he looked aside while ignoring his father's request.

" **Jason Peter Todd** , I am not repeating myself," Bruce said in a deadly serious tone. The noisy atmosphere in the dining room died down in an instant. Dick, who was still grinning a few seconds ago, lost his smile upon noticing his father's strict tone. Walking over to Tim, the older brother pulled his sibling up from the floor and guided him back to their seat.

"Tsk, you never apologize even if you did something wrong."

Dick and Tim decided it was best to avoid getting dragged into the tense atmosphere. The duo went over to their seat and decided to eat in silence. Bruce without his morning coffee and Jason without his breakfast only means trouble.

"Fine then, you're grounded." Bruce, taking a small sip of the warm coffee served by Alfred, said in a calm tone.

"Grounded? Why didn’t you receive any punishment when you did something wrong then?" Jason, furious by the sudden decision, slammed his balled fists on the dining table. Teeth were bared as the ten years old glared over at his father who was sipping his coffee with a calming atmosphere surrounding him.

"Why? Because you hurt Tim, Jason. And in this house, so you go by the rules." Ignoring the hot-tempered boy, Bruce accepted the newspaper from Alfred and flipped the paper to find something interesting to read. "If you don't like the way this house works, you're always free to go."

" **FINE**! Who even wants to stay in this crappy place you called home anyway?!" Out of anger, the boy pushed the dishes on the dining table to the floor before he stomped from the room.

"Jason!" Dick and Tim called out in unison as they watched their sibling rush out of the dining room. They wanted to chase after him, but the duo stopped as their adoptive father spoke up.

"Let him be. He can’t survive out there for long; he would come home within two days."

"...Bruce, it isn't how it seemed. Jason and I... we just have a harmless argument--"

"If 'a harmless' argument resulted in you earning a swollen head, then it is not harmless, Tim."

The eight-year-old was speechless as he looked down at the floor. The boy fiddled his thumbs together as he couldn't find words to stop the cold war between his sibling and father.

"Young masters, it is almost time for school. Master Jason is waiting in the car, so I hope you two finish your breakfasts quickly. One of you might be late to school if you waste another minute. I wouldn't be able to help you arrive at school on time even if I broke the speed limit."

Right away, the duo started to stuff their mouths with the breakfast they had yet to finish. Once they finished their food, the boys rushed out of the dining room. But, before Dick made his way out of the room, he glanced over at Bruce one last time.

"Bruce, both you and I know well enough that Jason could survive even if he has to live outside by himself. You… care enough of him to go pick him up if he tried to run away, right?"

"..."

Dick knew that his father did hear his words. Bruce was just trying to ignore it since he was aware of how accurate his eldest son is most of the time. The boy had been the one who was beside Bruce since the beginning, and he knew the man wasn't as harsh as his sharp tongue was. But, those words and actions that seemed as though he didn't care still hurt enough. And these are words from Dick who had known Bruce for the longest compared to his other siblings.

"I'm not trying to lecture you here, but... don't leave Jason in the cold for too long, okay? At least try to have a heart-to-heart talk with him when he is back. Jay isn't as confident as he always seems."

Before Bruce could shoot his infamous glare at his eldest son, the teen rushed out upon hearing a honk on the horn by Alfred.

Once he was alone, Bruce placed down the newspaper he had been pretending to read. Nothing in the paper caught his attention as much as the condition of his children does. His deep blue eyes caught sight of the broken plates at the corner of the room. Alfred despised mess and Bruce make a mental note to clean up the mess himself. Knowing Alfred for years, the old man is going to lecture him about parenting again. Thus, he hoped Alfred could show some mercy when he saw Bruce cleaning up the mess caused by Jason.

The condition of the plates reminded Bruce of his relationship with his children. Especially Jason.

Broken.

Shattered into pieces.

Unfixable.

Although he doesn't have arguments with the other two, Bruce could show pieces of evidence on how tense his relationship was with his boys.

Dick was distancing himself and rarely talked about his personal problems with him. Perhaps, it is just a common issue that occurred when a child reached adolescence. Or maybe the boy is just turning rebellious like Jason. On the other hand, Bruce knew he had been neglecting Tim a lot. The problems that consistently appeared between Jason and he caused Bruce to give Tim less attention compared to his older siblings.

 **Hell** , sometimes he didn't even talk with the kid more than just greetings in a day.

This isn't how it should have turned out. He brought each of the children under his arms because he wanted to give them a better life than the ones they used to have. He wanted to patch up the holes in their heart that were torn apart. Instead, it feels like he is making their lives worse than they used to be.

**Ding-Dong.**

The doorbell rang once, and Bruce stood up from the chair. The man had ended up thinking too much; to the point that he’d forgotten that he had an interview with the reporter, Vicki Vale, coming soon. It took him a minute to make sure he wasn’t in an emotional state as he walked out of the dining room. Straightening his figure before the double mahogany door of his mansion, the billionaire had his trademark Bruce Wayne smile on his face as he opened the door.

The smile on his face instantly faded away when he saw an unexpected figure standing in his doorway.

"Talia...?"

* * *

_**To be continued.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 14th August 2017.


	2. Chapter 2

I wasn't there the moment  
You first learned to breathe  
But I'm on my way, on my way  
I wasn't there the moment  
You got off your knees  
But I'm on my way, on my way

[On My Way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ie9VxRF7ucM) by Boyce Avenue

* * *

Tim Drake stared at the infant who was staring back at him. The boy didn't know there was a crib around the house until this moment! Or Bruce probably just asked Alfred to buy one on his way home after sending Dick and him to school **(which is true)**. But, main question beforehand; who is this black haired baby in his home?

"His name is Damian."

Tim jumped up in surprise at the sudden arrival of his adoptive father in the room. When he whirled around, the boy was even overwhelmed as he saw the adult holding a bottle of milk.

It is not every day you get to see the famous playboy Bruce Wayne in a loose baggy sports shirt, holding a bottle of milk ready to feed the baby in the crib.

"... Damian...? Bruce, you didn't tell us beforehand that you were going to adopt another child. I don't mind a new member in the house... but this is a **huge** surprise."

Bruce was silent as he walked towards the crib. He picked the infant up from the crib in a gentle hold. The man feared that he might crush the soft head under his touch with just a little more energy. It was the first time Tim saw Bruce in such a heart-warming state. The boy became more freaked out when Bruce called the child's name in a gentle tone while guiding the nipple of the bottle towards the baby's mouth.

"Tim, Damian isn't adopted. He is my son with Talia."

It didn’t take long for the boy to remember Talia. There was a time when Bruce lived like a dead soul. The man didn't tell any of his boys about the reason for his sadness, but Tim could see that it was something complicated.

He heard the tales of Talia through Dick. Talia Al Ghul was one of the rare women with whom Bruce had taken a relationship seriously.

The reason for the breakup remained a mystery. Not even Dick, who had stayed by Bruce's side for the longest, knew the cause of their dying love. Thus, to hear Bruce announcing the sudden existence of a baby brother whose mother is Talia surprised Tim to no end.

“But how, Bruce? I thought you two--”

“We would talk about this once Alfred brings Dick and Jason back, okay?”

The frustration was apparent in his tone as the adult struggled to hold the baby in a more comfortable state. He might be a single father of three, but Dick, Tim, and Jason were older than the infant when he brought them in.

Once Damian finally felt comfortable enough to start drinking, Bruce sighed out in relief.

“Then… do you need any of my help?”

The man glanced down once he heard the soft voice of his son. The boy seemed to always lower down his tone when he knew Bruce was undergoing stress or frustration.

Bruce didn’t want Tim to think that he was a problem for him, the child never was. He never threw truant in school like Jason did, nor did he ever worry Bruce like Dick did. The boy was often the top in his class and tried his best to be a good son. Of course, Bruce thought Tim was a good kid, but he didn’t want the child to believe that speaking his mind would be bad behavior.

There was a mild silence before Bruce gave the nod. “Well, if you don’t mind -- could you help me unpack some of the stuff Alfred brought? I don’t have the time to do so, since Damian is keeping my hands busy.”

Tim’s eyes lightened up upon hearing those words. “Sure!” The boy exclaimed in excitement. Bruce couldn’t stop himself from smiling as it had been a long time since he saw Tim being happy. The child rushed over to the corner of the room, where the packed items placed.

Bruce was glad that Tim was happy with the job he had assigned him to. As he glanced down at Damian, his mind started to relive how the whole situation happened a few hours ago.

* * *

_"Talia...?" Bruce's eyes were wide in surprise upon seeing the familiar woman standing before him. The Arabic woman only greeted the shocked man with a smile before she made her way into the mansion._

_"Beloved, when we parted ways last year, I had hidden a truth from you. Perhaps if I hadn’t lied, we would have tried harder to make our relationship work. But that was not what happened. And by the time I learned about my selfish desire to keep our child instead of aborting him, I was already far, far away from you. During the time, the naive me believed that I could raise our precious by myself. But the cruelty of the world refused to allow me the chance to spend more time with him."_

_The woman handed the bundle wrapped in warm, smooth silk towards him. Bruce who was still confused by the entire situation was taken aback by surprise when he felt the weight of a wriggling life._

_A little whine escaped from the infant in his arms. Bruce who had finally snapped out of his stupor watched as a loud heartbreaking cry immediately replaced the soft whine._

_The male pulled the infant closer towards his chest. He didn't exactly know what he should do, but he tried his best in calming down the crying child by bouncing him up and down in his arms - imitating what he had seen mothers do whenever a kid acted out._

_It took a while before the five month old finally stopped sobbing and opened his eyes. In the brief moment, the child quieted down as he seemed almost transfixed by Bruce's appearance. Truth to say, so was the man himself._

_Because of those eyes._

_Those eyes reminded him of Talia - the woman he once loved and had planned to form a family with._

_Feeling an inkling of affection take root in his heart for this young life, Bruce brushed the tears at the corner of the child's eyes away with his thumb gently._

_In reply, the boy smiled back at him, making the bright gurgling sound that babies always seemed to do. But the crying seemed to have taken a lot out of the child. Bruce could already see Damian's eyelids starting to drop._

_“What is the meaning of **this** , Talia?” _

_When the billionaire could finally get his mind to start functioning again, once he was sure that his son was deeply asleep, he turned his attention towards the woman before him. Talia only replied by taking a step forward -- shortening the distance between herself and the man before him._

_She extended an arm, smooth fingers gently grazed over the wet cheek of the child of her own blood._

_“My father was killed.” The woman spoke as she had her eyes directed at the infant. There was no glint of negative emotions in her eyes. She was not grieving, nor was there any sadness in her tone. In fact, she looked calm and rational to the point that Bruce became suspicious about her words._

_“There were people who wanted to kill us -- **our** son and me.” This time, Talia’s eyes gazed up towards the pair of royal blue eyes she used to adore. “I can’t avenge my father nor could I protect the League of Assassins with Damian around. Not to mention, he might become a target of the assassins who wanted to annihilate us.” _

_“So you decided that I am the person best capable of taking care of him. Did you plan not to tell me about his existence ‘till the end if it wasn’t because someone was going to hurt him?” There was a bitterness lingering in the man’s voice mixed along with visible frustration as he narrowed his eyes at the assassin before him._

_He could still remember the day when Talia told him that she’d failed to protect their baby, who was still in her womb. It felt as though his soul was ripped out from his body and his heart had stopped beating. It was because of her words that he’d lost the peaks of brightness he was starting to see in his life. And now, he had been away from his son’s life for five months._

_He wasn’t there during her labor. He wasn’t there to greet his son as the first person he saw in his life. He wasn’t a part of his son’s life until now._

_It was only five months, but he felt that he had missed a lot._

_“I won’t ask for your forgiveness for my lie, beloved,” Talia told him in a calm tone. Pulling her hand away from her son’s cheek, she placed her open palm on her lover’s cheek. The assassin caressed the face that she used to love. Tilting her head up, she closed the distance between them, connecting their lips together for a quick kiss of another long farewell. “But I hoped that you could at least take care of our son until I could assure that his life wasn’t in any danger.”_

* * *

And with that, she walked out of his life just like how she used to.

Bruce had to cancel the interview with Vicki Vale when Talia left. Damian wasn't helping much by wailing when he noticed his mother's disappearance. Calling Alfred to make sure the butler purchased the baby supplies they would start to need wasn't easier either. The child's cries were so loud that Bruce could not hear Alfred's replies on the phone. The man was glad that his butler didn't question much when he called. The baby’s cries mainly answered every question Alfred had towards Bruce's sudden emergency.

Cradling his son close to his heart, Bruce began to walk around the room. He sang a quiet lullaby as he rocked Damian back and forth in a slow pace. And as the man hummed, walked around and rocked, he thought about Talia.

He thought of what it would take a mother to hide her child from the father, and he wondered just how she’d been able to go through those five months while protecting Damian from the surface of the world.

He had only known Damian for a few hours, but he was head over heels for this tiny bundle of life. Through the child, he could see himself trying his best to raise him up to become a good person.

The sudden arrival of Damian in his life had given him the courage and determination to become a better father. It wasn't only for his baby son, but for his other children as well.

Unable to contain his fondness for the child, Bruce leaned down and pressed a kiss on his son's forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Damian."

* * *

  _ **To be continued.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 14th August 2017.


	3. Chapter 3

The **love** of a family  
is the world's greatest _blessing_.

* * *

Jason was angry; the emotion was well-written on his face. The boy glared down at the homework before him as he gave out a grumble. He was like a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any time.

The reason for his anger? Well, his video game was being taken away by his father as a punishment for skipping classes. And for the past twenty minutes, he had been stuck in the same room with Dick.

Alfred had said that Bruce wanted to tell them about something important. But that was twenty minutes ago.

Needless to say, their father hadn’t shown up yet.

“Where the hell is he? He could have let us know he is going to be late if he decided not to obey his rule of complying with time management.” Jason complained in annoyance, banging his balled-up fist on the table.

“Hey, calm down, Jason. And watch your language.” Dick tried to calm his short-tempered brother up as he spun the mechanical pencil in his hand. “Anyways, I bet Bruce is doing something important now which is why he's late.”

“Yea, since when the hell isn’t the old man busy?” The younger of the two grumbled as he glared down at the homework before him. “He is always soooo busy. He couldn’t even make sure he arrives on time when he is the one who wanted to talk to us about something ‘important.'”

Before he finished his words, the door opened, and Bruce walked in. “Sorry, I’m late.” the man said as he pulled out a chair for himself with a tired sigh. “I was discussing with Alfred about remodeling my room.”

The duo stared at the adult as if he had gone insane.

Dick glanced over at Jason. He was pretty sure that whatever Bruce had said snapped the last calmness within Jason, and boy was he right.

Immediately, Jason slammed his mechanical pencil down on the desk. “You kept us waiting for twenty minutes to discuss how you should remodel your room? I could have spent the time doing something much more valuable if it wasn’t for you saying it was ‘important’!”

At the same time, Bruce placed a finger to his mouth - gesturing at his second son to lower his voice. “Please, Jason. Keep your voice down, or you’ll-”

“Or I’ll what?”

Seconds later, before Bruce could open his mouth to explain; he heard the sound he had been dreading - the faint sound of a wailing infant.

Getting up, the adult rushed out of the study room and ran towards the direction of his room - which was only a few doors away.

The two eldest sons exchanged glances with one another. In a quick second, they came to a unanimous decision to follow after their father to find the origin of the crying.

When Bruce arrived in his room, he saw Alfred cradling Damian in his arms. The old butler rocked the baby back and forth and was trying his best to get the young boy to stop his crying. So far, it wasn’t working.

Tim, who was helping Alfred hold Damian's bottle of milk, had a look of relief flash across his face upon seeing his father enter the room. Alfred immediately guided the boy to the arms of Bruce upon noticing his master's arrival.

As Bruce took the crying infant into his arms, Dick and Jason stared at him in shock. Bruce ignored the surprising reaction he was receiving from his sons. He has his attention focused solely on his youngest son. Holding the baby against his chest, he rubbed Damian’s back, murmuring quiet promises of being there for him.

As he listened to his father’s voice, Damian hiccupped and finally looked up at his father with watery eyes. When the boy finally saw the familiar face, he couldn't find from the moment he opened his eyes, the corners of the infant’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

Rocking the boy back and forth, Bruce tried to put him back to sleep. But try as he might, Damian’s eyes remained wide open. Sighing, the man wondered what he was doing wrong.

After receiving Damian from Talia who had vanished from his sight once again, Bruce’s first plan of action had been to start rocking the boy back and forth gently as he had often seen mothers do to urge their babies to sleep. While rocking his son in his arms, he had taken out his phone and called Alfred so the butler could purchase clothes, furniture, milk bottles, diapers and all the other necessities needed in raising a child. By the time he ended the call and looked down, the child’s eyes were closed, and he was breathing at an even pace.

Finally giving up on trying, Bruce sighed and turned around. Two pairs of eyes filled with questions directed to him and demanding answers that Bruce knew he had to answer even without any of his family members asking it out loud.

“Bruce,” Dick called, breaking the silence before his adoptive father could plan any explanation in his mind. “Whose child is that?”  

There was a lengthy silence, and when Bruce finally spoke out, it was in a quiet tone filled with insecurity. “... Mine?”

The way he said it makes it sounded like a question as if he himself wasn’t too sure of the answer to the question. He was worried about how his family would react, but luckily for him - Dick was shocked into silence, nodding once to show that he had heard.

“Where’s his mother then?” Jason asked as he directed his gaze towards the baby in Bruce’s arms. “None of us noticed her coming in, but she’s around, right?” His voice was doubtful as if he knew the answer to his question.

With a sigh, Bruce shook his head. “Talia left Damian to me during this morning when you boys and Alfred were out. She’s not coming back for a long time.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as his hands itched for something to hit. His teeth clenched together as he no doubts wanted to shout some nasty words about Talia.

As if reading his second’s son thoughts, Bruce voiced out, “No curses when Damian is around, Jason.”

The young boy’s eyes flashed dangerously, but he crossed his arms over his chest and looked out at the window, glaring at the thin air.

As Dick finally recovered from his surprise, he asked uncertainly, “This is Talia we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

Bruce nodded, and before anyone could say anything else, Jason finally found a reason to speak up again, and the explosion that everyone had expected from the hot-headed boy came finally.

“How dare she do this to you, Bruce? I swear when I get my hands on that b-”

“Master Jason,” Alfred spoke up before the young boy could finish his threat. Jason clenched his teeth together, stopping the words from flowing out of his mouth -- he knew the terrible consequences he would meet if he got on the wrong side of their butler.

Bruce shook his head with a sigh. He knew he had to teach Jason more about manners when he had the time. The boy’s bad habit had yet to show changes even if it had been years since he brought him under his arms. “Anyways, at least it’s a good thing she left him to us. Damian deserves to live in safe surroundings. ”

Standing up on his toes, Dick smiled as he got a good look at the infant’s face for the first time and saw how much the boy looked like a split image of their father aside from his pair of chartreuse eyes. “His name is Damian?” the eldest son asked as he poked one of the plump-ish cheeks with his finger.

“More specifically, Damian Wayne Al Ghul.”

“Well, that’s a long name to memorize but… Damian means ‘to tame,' right? It sounds like you would go a long way trying to tame him in the future, Bruce.”

Bruce’s left brow arched up as he directed his gaze towards his eldest son. “Don’t talk like you haven’t given me a hard time when you were younger, Dick. I have experience raising a hyperactive kid, how hard would it take to raise another from the beginning?”

While the father and son had been talking, Damian had taken a liking over the finger that had been poking his cheek. Reaching out a chubby hand, the baby holds a tight grip on the moving digit before his view. Dick, who was surprised by the sudden grip, looked down and his eyes met with a pair of chartreuse hues staring back into his eyes.

The teen’s lips pulled wide into a smile at the baby’s action. He raised up his other hand and tousled the infant’s hair. Dick, although he never spoke about it, was a protective brother towards all his younger brothers. He'd lived a few years being a single child with his parents and Bruce, but he had always envied those who had siblings. When Bruce brought Jason and Tim into the house, Dick was overwhelmed with excitement and had always tried his best to be a good older brother.   “You must be happy,” Bruce said, distracting Dick from doting on his new baby brother. “You have a playmate now. Jason and Tim could finally take a break from your clinginess.”

Dick frowned at this. “I have mixed feelings.” The boy muttered. “Yes, I’m happy there is a baby in the house. Sometimes Jaybird and Timmy don’t even know how hurt their big brother feels when they slam the door in my face.”

Almost instantly, the teen could feel two pairs of eyes filled with annoyance directed their attention towards him.

“But I’m also upset with the way Talia treated him.”

Bruce could only sigh about Dick’s statement as he shook his head. “She probably believes that I’m the safest person she could hide Damian with. I’m grateful she thinks so, at least.”

* * *

  _ **To be continued.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 14th August 2017.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sometimes**_  
being a **brother**  
is even _better_  
than being a **superhero**

by Marc Brown

* * *

 “Come here, Damian!” Dick called out, an empty milk bottle on his left hand while his right hand holds out a baby rattle. “Come to big brother, Damian!” The teen gave the baby rattle a light shake, trying to attract the baby's attention.

No response. The baby seemed to find fitting many of his fingers as he could into his mouth more entertaining compared to whatever Dick had just said to him.

“Damian, come!”

Nothing. The child continued to chew on his fingers and a pair of bright chartreuse hues stared back at frustrated eyes of his elder brother.

“Damian!”

“He’s not a dog, dickie bird.” Jason, who was playing a video game on the other side of the room pointed out the obvious truth. “You can’t expect him to go over just because you called him. Not to mention, he is only six-months-old. I doubt he can understand what you’re saying.”

Dick puffed his cheeks to show his dissatisfaction. “I’m trying to make him walk!”

“Seriously? He’s only six months old. He can barely crawl and you want him to walk?” Jason raised a brow in disbelief at the teen.

“I’m going to teach him how, starting from now.” Dick said persistently, folding his arms across his chest and gave his baby brother a stern look. Tim, who was reading an encyclopedia on the couch, rolled his eyes at Dick’s stubborn attempt. In some ways, he was glad he became a member of the house when he was much older than Damian.

Damian, who had been watching his brother’s every movement since the beginning, grinned back at Dick’s stern gaze. The baby pulled his sticky fingers out from his mouth as he extended his arms at the elder boy, asking for a hug.

“No, Damian. No huggy until you learn how to walk, or at least crawl.” Little Damian made a noise at not getting the hug he was expecting. The child reached his arms out again, demanding an embrace from the brother who would usually smother him with affection.

“Come on, Damian!” Dick was becoming frustrated as his younger brother seemed unaffected by his multiple calls. As Damian grew tired of reaching out his arms, the boy began to suck on his thumb. The thirteen-year-old picked his baby brother from the mattress, then hefted the boy on his feet.

“I know you can stand up!” Dick huffed and puffed. “Just put your feet down like me!”

Maybe Damian finally understood what his older brother was trying to say, because at long last, he straightened his legs out and managed to stand unsteadily while holding a tight grip on Dick’s shirt for support.  
  
“Good! That’s right, Damian!” Dick gushed, and that earned a grin from the baby as he looked up at his brother. “Now… the hard part.” Dick pried Damian’s hands off his shirt carefully and took a few slow steps back, waiting to see if Damian could keep his balance. When he was sure Damian wasn’t going to fall, he stepped further.

“Okay, Damian! Now walk to big brother!” Dick exclaimed out in excitement as he held his hands out to show his encouragement.

Damian frowned and stretched his own little hands out, wobbling back and forth. “Pa!”

“No, I’m not Papa! I’m Dick! Say it, Di-ck.”

“Pa!”

“Pa is what you call Bruce, Damian! I’m not Bruce! Now come to big brother, Damian!”

“Pa...” the baby murmured again, looking down at his unsteady feet. Damian took a deep breath and managed to take one shuffling little step forward.

“You did it!” Dick cheered out. “Now do it again! Walk to big brother, Damian!”

Brows furrowed in utmost concentration, Damian took another wobbling step. He moved his foot to take another, but he began to sway. Before Dick was fast enough to step up and catch him, the boy fell flat on his face.

There was an instant silence in the room. Jason lost his concentration on the game he was playing, while Tim looked up from the encyclopedia he was reading. Dick bit his lip in worry and hurried over as Damian pushed himself up. This wasn’t good. There was a little red mark on Damian’s nose from the fall; his eyes were filling with tears and his lower lip trembled as a sign of impending outburst.

Uh-oh.

The same thought ran across the three brothers’ minds. Jason and Tim abandoned what they were doing immediately and rushed over to make sure Damian’s state wasn’t more aggravated than it seemed. God knows what Bruce and Alfred would do to them if they knew Damian was injured.

“I’m not involved in whatever troubles you’ve caused, Dickie-bird. But knowing Bruce and Alfred, your actions are going to cause troubles to me as well! You better come up with something to stop his cries before Alfred arrives!” Jason hissed out at Dick. The boy was definitely not looking forward to having his video games taken away for another week again.

Tears were starting to leak out from the corners of Damian’s eyes. His face was screwed up, preparing to wail. Dick knew he had to act fast before his brothers and he got into trouble.

“Tim… go and peek through the door. Make sure that Alfred isn’t coming before we stop Damian’s cry.”

The six year old nodded his head and immediately stood up and ran over to the door. He took a quick glance towards the hall to make sure Alfred hadn’t arrived yet before he gave Dick a thumb-up.

Dick immediately tugged his cheeks out. Damian’s face relaxed, the misery on his face changed into curiosity -- though his nose had started to dribble and he was still whimpering.

Now that he had his baby brother’s attention, Dick stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. The expression he made caused a giggle to come out of Damian. Dick continued to make several funny faces before he dragged Jason in to help him. In the beginning, the younger boy denied helping, but after a few pleas, Jason gave in and tagged along with Dick.

When the two brothers puffed their cheeks and pulled their ears out at the same time, Damian finally rocked back and forth with laughter, the tears long forgotten.

Dick grinned along with the baby’s laughter while Jason and Tim sighed in relief. The two could feel a heavy weight being lifted from their shoulders as Dick picked Damian up from the floor.

“I’m sorry, Damian.” Dick placed his brother on his lap before giving his baby-soft hair a gentle tousle. “I was too harsh to you. You don’t have to learn to walk yet if you aren’t ready. I'll carry you to wherever you want if that is what you need right now.”

Even if Damian couldn’t quite understand words yet, the gentle tone his brother used caused him to grin as he wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders, leaning against the crook of his neck.

Dick echoed the smile. “I love you, Damian.” he said, fondly. He pulled his little brother close into a hug and it was then, in the brief moment -- a foul smell started to emit out from the baby’s diaper. It didn’t even gently waft over, it just hit their nostril in an instant.

Oh no.

“ **_ALFRED!!!_ ** ”

* * *

  _ **To be continued.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 19th August 2017.


	5. Chapter 5

Your eyes whispered "have we met?"  
Across the room your silhouette starts to make its way to me  
The playful conversation starts  
Counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy

[Enchanted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWSt64gNr30) by Taylor Swift

* * *

“I can’t believe they sent me all the way out to Gotham, damn Lois.”

Clark Kent gave a sigh as he shook his head in defeat. The reporter lifted his head up. His gaze stared at the manor which he was standing before.

The owner of the mansion goes by the name of Bruce Wayne, who is a well-known and successful man in his early thirties.

From habit, Clark kept away from any news involving Bruce Wayne. The billionaire had too many false rumors surrounding him, and Clark was never a fan of gossip. But for the sake of this interview, he had done a little study on the man's background.

At the age of six, Bruce Wayne witnessed the death of his parents, right before his eyes. The incident had caused the young successor to disappear from the surface of the world all of a sudden. There had been rumors of the boy committing suicide, but those rumors were proven wrong when Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham ten years ago.

The man inherited the wealth and company left by his late parents once he’d made his return to his hometown. In his late twenties, the billionaire had allowed the Wayne Enterprise to grow at a startling rate.

Bruce Wayne was also well-known for his womanizing nature. The billionaire's love life would always be a hot topic for those gossip columnists. Pictures of the man going out with a famous woman were never a surprise for those working in the media industry.

But still, the billionaire's fame and complicated love life weren’t the only reasons he became the main topic in the press. The huge donation Bruce Wayne gave out for those charity organizations was also a big hit in the media.

The reason for Clark’s arrival at Wayne manor was to interview Wayne about the donations he had made for a recent charity campaign in Metropolis. Lois was the one who should be doing the interview, but the woman was busy writing up articles about the recent incidents related to Superman.

 _‘Typical Lois.’_ Clark shook his head as he gave a light chuckle. Everyone at the Daily Planet knew that nothing could get in the way of Lois's passion, to both Superman and her perfectionist nature.

Thus, to write up the perfect article for the Man of Steel, the prize-journalist oh-so-kindly allowed Clark to take over her chance of interviewing one of the most well-known people in Gotham. Clark had no problem doing the job for Lois's sake, but he wouldn’t say the same about the man he is going to interview soon.

As Clark approached the manor, he rang the doorbell. In a quick second, the double doors pulled open.

“Welcome. Mister Kent, is it? The one who would be replacing Miss Lane who couldn't attend today's interview." A man, who Clark assumed to be the butler of the manor by his formal attire, opened the door. "Please, do step inside. Master Bruce will be greeting you in his office. I am here to lead you there."

Upon stepping into the manor, Clark had to admit that the estate was splendid. Fine-threaded carpets were covering the floor while beautiful paintings hung on the walls. The furniture looked delicate, and glass chandeliers lit up all the room.

After a few minutes of walking, the duo arrived before a pair of ornately carved double doors. Without a doubt, the doors before they were the entrance to Bruce Wayne’s office.

The butler opened the door for him. As Clark stepped in, he looked around the lavish room in amazement.

The room had a cozy feeling. With cream colored walls and leather sofa surrounding a black coffee table in the middle room. On the wall hung a huge portrait of Bruce Wayne and his sons.

The boys were all dressed in elegant suits and had their hair slicked back. The older boys stood by the sides of their father while the youngest sat on Bruce's lap. The children were all smiling, just like the man in the picture himself.

Upon seeing the portrait, the mental image of a womanizer Bruce Wayne in Clark's mind changed. The children in the painting seemed healthy in both physical and psychological state and the youngest one had his arms wrapped around his father's neck for support.

It was different than how the media had characterized Bruce Wayne.

"You're the reporter from Daily Planet, I assume?"

Clark turned his attention towards the billionaire who sat on his office chair.

"When Lois said she wouldn't be able to attend the interview, I assumed she would find a female replacement. I am disappointed to see that she found a male replacement instead." The billionaire complained as his eyes scanned the journalist from head to toe. "But, it's still a pleasure to meet you... Khan, is it?" With a quick smile, Bruce held out his hand in greeting.

Clark stared deep into the billionaire's blue eyes. He would describe the man's eyes as stunning.  The pair of eyes has a dark blue rim around the iris and an even mix of pale blue and white rays in the iris. His eyes reminded Clark of something extravagant. It sounded cliché, but at this moment, those eyes were the prettiest thing he had seen in his lifetime.

It took Clark a few seconds to realize he had been spacing. A bashful smile spread on the reporter’s face as he gave made a firm shake. “I'm Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. It is my pleasure to meet you in person, Mister Wayne.”

* * *

It had been half an hour since Clark arrived at the Wayne manor. The reporter was still asking questions towards the famous billionaire. Clark feels relaxed upon seeing the owner of the Wayne Enterprise wasn’t as rude as rumor said.

When Bruce voiced his disappointment of his arrival, Clark had expected the man to fool around during the interview, but he was wrong. Although Bruce seemed a bit uninterested in the interview, he still answered those questions.

Meanwhile, Bruce was finding that Clark failed to entertain him, but still managed to impress him. It was rare to find a reporter who wouldn’t breach the privacy of your life.

Bruce had encounters with several reporters who would trample over his privacy. The worst he had encountered was the one who tried to force answers out of his sons.

The billionaire still remembers the incident with a reporter who sought to interview Dick. The boy was still traumatized by the tragedy that happened to his parents and almost had a panic attack due to the forced interview. Afterward, Bruce had forbidden any meetings related to his children.

Bruce was explaining about his decision of donations to the orphanage was due to his children when there was a sudden knock on the door.

Clark, who was writing down the details given by Bruce jerked a little in surprise. What could be so important that someone would interrupt the private meeting?

“Come in!” Bruce called as he straightened himself up.

The doors creaked open, and the old butler who guided Clark around the manor came rushing in. The senior man seemed troubled as he walked to Bruce's side.

“My apologies, Master Bruce, but young master Damian has woken, and he won’t stop crying no matter what I do.”

Clark’s brows rose to his hairline. Young master? From the last thirty minutes of the interview, Clark had known that Bruce had three adoptive sons, but the billionaire had also told him that the kids were in school at this moment.

So who was this 'young master' that the butler spoke about?

“I’ve tried everything.” Alfred continued. “He usually calms down when I give him the pacifier. But strangely enough, he spits it out today. I've made milk for him, but he's not drinking. I even checked his diaper, but it's clean. I am assuming that he is panicking because you weren’t there when he woke up."

Bruce was blinking his eyes, his feet tapping on the floor anxiously. Flicking his eyes over the Daily Planet reporter before him, the billionaire hesitated.

He had to think about the consequences of allowing Alfred to bring Damian in. Bruce couldn't trust Clark yet. They had just met thirty minutes ago. Although Clark didn’t seem like the gossip type, Bruce still had his suspicions about him.

His thoughts broke off when a high-pitched wail reached his ears. Bruce slumped back in his chair as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Bring Damian in, then."

Alfred’s expression changed from troubled to surprised. “Right away, sir.”

When Alfred had left, Bruce turned his gaze to Clark. “I apologize for this disturbance.”

“No need to worry, not at all,” Clark brushed it off calmly. The journalist was rather curious to see who this 'Damian' was. Soon enough, his question was met with the answer when the sound of distant wailing grew louder.

Finally, the doors opened again. The old butler was carrying a crying infant. Bruce immediately got up from his seat and took the crying baby from his butler.

Clark then watched a curious scene unfold: Bruce first placed a kiss on the head of the baby whom he was holding, and then he sat down with the baby in his arms. “My, you’re a grumpy one when you’ve just woken up, aren’t you?” Bruce teased the baby as he rubbed the tears from the child’s eyes. “Always giving Alfred a hard time even though you seemed to do just fine when I am out to work. I’m starting to think that you just want to act spoiled.”

Clark watched in fascination as Bruce’s personality made a change. Now, he isn’t Prince of Gotham nor is he the Brucie that women knew about. He is just a concerned, loving father who is comforting his baby who missed his existence.

When the child stopped crying, Bruce turned his attention back towards Clark again. "Damian only joined the family a month ago. He still gets spooked when he wakes up and can’t find me."

Clark nodded in understanding. The baby does share a similar appearance with Bruce aside from his chartreuse eyes.

“I didn’t know you had a new-born son, Mister Wayne.”

Bruce sighed as he heard the words he had expected. After all, he hasn't let the world knew he had a baby son. The single father had his hands full with the other boys and the company already. He wasn’t ready to let the media know about Damian's existence and cause a scene. Damian is too young to deal with that kind of harassment.

“I wasn’t planning to tell the world about him yet. His arrival to this family is rather sudden and… I just don’t want to deal with the question of how and when I had him.”

Clark gave another understanding nod. His hand had stopped writing since he knew this wasn’t an appropriate topic to ask Bruce about.

After a moment of silence, the child in Bruce’s arms started to wriggle. A little whimper was the only signal Bruce received to tell him about his son’s imminent outburst. “I’m sorry, but the interview must end here.” The billionaire bounced the child in his arms. “You can come back tomorrow if you wish. I should be available tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Clark said as he stood up.  Bruce shifted Damian to his left arm before shaking Clark’s extended hand.

Clark would have said more, but Bruce cut him off with a smile. “Would you like to write the article about my family, then?”

The journalist’s eyes widened. He was in a loss of speech before he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not the type -- you know, I won’t--”

Bruce chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s okay. I could see that you’re an honest man. I trust you not to write any strange rumors about my kids.”

"Of course. I won't even spill a word about them if it's what you wanted, Mister Wayne."

Bruce let out a small chuckle at the reporter's reply. “Then it’s settled then, Mister Kent. I will meet you tomorrow in the morning. If you are lucky, the older kids might want to be involved in the interview. ”

At this moment, Clark was in shock from the billionaire's words. Bruce had made it crystal clear in the past that he would not allow reporters to approach his kids in any way. But here he was, getting approval from Bruce to interview the children.

He would have hugged Bruce if the man wasn't holding a baby in his left arm.

“Well then, we'll meet two-thirty in the afternoon tomorrow,” Bruce said with a smile after leading Clark to the front door of his manor.

Once Clark was out of the manor and Bruce was back to his room, he met with Alfred who was looking at him in curiosity.

“So, what convinced you?” Alfred asked as he served the man a cup of Earl Grey and picked Damian from him. Damian made some gurgles upon being picked up, but he did not wail like he did when he woke up without Bruce.

“Pardon?” Bruce raised a questioning brow at Alfred’s question as he accepted the cup of tea.

“Before the meeting, you didn’t approve any media to write about the children,” Alfred stated. “What convinced you?”

Bruce rubbed his chin in deep thought. "That Kent guy is… different." The billionaire could feel his butler's questioning gaze on him. "What I mean is, he made me feel at ease. He didn't even try to snap pictures of Damian when he was in my arms. He just.... makes me feels comfortable. I feel glad he was the one who saw Damian instead of some gossip columnist."

* * *

_**To be continued.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 19th August 2017.


	6. Chapter 6

You've carried on so long  
You couldn't stop if you tried it.  
You've built your wall so high  
That no one could climb it,  
But I'm gonna try  
  
Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?  
Would you let me see beneath your perfect?  
Take it off now, boy, take it off now, boy  
I wanna see inside

[Beneath Your Beautiful](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6nZ9fDHhRc) by Labrinth ft. Emeli Sande

* * *

Clark stood before the Wayne manor, his eyes scanned through his three piece suit for the last time to make sure there were no traces of dirt. Satisfied with his efforts, he knocked on the double mahogany door twice and waited in anticipation for the door to open.

When minutes passed by with no signs of the butler arriving to open the door for him, Clark rang the doorbell. A brief moment passed before the double doors were pulled open.

The journalist blinked his eyes in surprise by the sight of a child who stood before him on his tiptoes. With a warm smile, Clark crouched down to the boy’s level.

“Hello.” He greeted. “I’m Clark Kent, a reporter from the Daily Planet. I have an interview with your father today.”  
  
“He had told us.” Tim Drake ignored the reporter’s extended hand as he pushed the door open wider. “But Bruce is busy today. Your interview might be canceled, Mister Kent. ”  
  
“Bruce….?” It was odd to see the child addressing his father by his first name. But when one think thoughtfully, they would realize that the Wayne family **_had_ ** always been a unique family.

“Bruce said we could address him by the first name. I -- **_we_ ** don’t feel comfortable to call him as ‘dad’.” Tim mumbled under his breath. When Clark walked in, the boy pushed the doors close and tiptoed up to lock it. Alfred’s daily reminder; safety is first in the Wayne manor.

“I called him by his name, and so did my brothers. It doesn’t mean we didn’t love him any less.” The thin layer of his lips curled down to a frown. People misjudge their family when they knew the boys didn’t address their foster father by the rightful call.

_‘Those people were clueless.’_

It was the same words Bruce would tell them when they show their annoyance to the doubts of the society for their family.

But Bruce is right. The people who misjudged them didn’t know the traumatic experiences they had gone through before they met Bruce.

‘Dad’ was the reminder of Dick’s failure to save his parents from dying in the accident he could have warned them about. It is the remembrance for Jason of a father who neglected and never cared for him. It was Tim’s struggle of living with the image of his father’s corpse engraved in his mind.  
  
“... I-is that so….?” Clark noticed the change of emotions on the boy’s facial expression. The reported cursed silently under his breath for the strained atmosphere he caused.

“Did Mister Wayne -- _I mean_ , Bruce tell you why he can’t participate the interview today?” Clark squatted down to Tim’s level as he attempted to change the topic of their conversation.

“Oh, about that...” The child tilted his head from his gaze on the marbled flood as he coughed. “Our butler, Alfred falls down from the stairs in the morning today.”  
  
Clark’s eyes widened in surprise by the shocking news. Before he could question the butler’s current condition, Tim interrupted.

“No, there are no serious injuries -- only a few light bruises on the arms from the fall. His blood pressure is low, so the doctor kept him bedridden at the hospital for a day.”

Clark nodded as he sighed out in relief. Meanwhile, Tim wrapped the jacket tighter around his cold body. The small action does not escape from Clark’s sharp sight as Tim shivered in cold.

“Bruce is busier when Alfred is not around. He has to take care of our meals… Damian’s smelly diapers… the paperwork in his office… and many other _chores_ too. Also, it is lunch time for us now so we’re getting ready to go out for lunch.”  
  
As Tim counted down the list of activities that Bruce had to finish in a day without the help of the butler, Clark observed the child from head to toes.

Teary eyes, runny nose, dry lips, puffy cheeks and a hoarse tone. It was the obvious symptoms of a cold. Clark wondered if the child realized that he was suffering a bad cold.

“It’s been a while.” Tim stopped for a quick second as he sniffled. “Bruce is always busy with his work and we don’t have the chances to enjoy a meal with him a lot. Not to mention, he would be too tired to answer any questions during the interview once he is done with all the chores he had to do. I really think your interview might be canceled today, Mister Kent.”

Tim looked down at his fingers as he fiddled them together. The action caused Clark to feel the strong desire to accept the child’s advice. There was an awkward silence between the two. It was only broken when Bruce walked in.

“Mister Kent!” The single father offered a tense smile to the reporter as he balanced Damian in one arm. The infant wriggled in Bruce’s arm as he gave out a soft whine of disapproval at the change of position.

“As you can see, my arms are full at this moment.” The billionaire gave a strained laughter as he extended his free arm out for Clark. “Could you wait in the office room for a moment while I calm Damian down? The boys would lead you to the way.”

It was at the moment when Clark noticed the presence of the older boys who stood behind Bruce. One of them waved a hand at Clark with a smile while the other had a nasty scowl on his face.

“O-oh. It’s okay, Mister Wayne.” Something about the heated glare told him not to accept Bruce’s offer. "It seemed that you have your hands full. We could extend the interview to tomorrow if you want to. I don't mind at all!"  
  
Bruce raised his brow in surprise at the reporter's remark. The man's eyes glanced over towards his youngest son who stood behind the reporter. The child immediately avoided the eye contact when Bruce stared into his eyes.  
  
The answer was rather obvious with the way Tim was acting. With a sigh, Bruce shook his head before he fixed a smile towards Clark.  
  
"That is kind of you, Mister Kent," Bruce said as he accepted the man's generous offer. "I was just about to bring the kids out for lunch. If you don't mind, would you like to have lunch with us? However, it won't be anything that is going to be fancy. My kids want to have fast food for lunch. They're still debating whether we're going to Dominos or Burger King now. "  
  
"We're going to Burger King." The child with a frown on his face said once Bruce finished with his words. The father glanced over his shoulders, giving a stern glare to the boy. Jason crossed his arms over his shoulders as he shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Jason... we promised to debate through rock-paper-scissors!" The other boy complained out.  
  
"The first one to say _won_ , Dickie-bird." The younger glared over at his elder brother.  
  
"No, Jason. You're unfair!" Dick remarked back.  
  
"How is it unfair when I voiced my thoughts out first?"  
  
"We have this talk before, Jason. If this is how you're going to play, I could say that we should follow my choice instead since I am the eldest!"  
  
"Don't play the 'eldest' card, Dick-bird! You're older than me by three years, but I bet I'm going to grow taller than you!"  
  
"Boys, that's ENOUGH!" The sudden outburst from Bruce caused the two boys to stop their little quarrel. Tim who stood beside Clark flinched at the yell. Dick and Jason hung their heads low in disappointment and fear.  
  
Damian who was sucking on the pacifier was startled by Bruce's exclamation as well. The baby's eyes were filling with tears as a few hiccups escaped from the child's mouth.  
  
Upon noticing the sign of Damian's fear, Bruce started to bounce the infant in his arms up and down.  
  
"... I'm sorry, Bruce." Dick murmured in a timid one.  
  
"..." Jason stayed silent. A few seconds passed before the boy spat out a soft apology to Bruce.  
  
Bruce glanced over his shoulders. The guilt was starting to eat at him when he saw his kids acting like beaten puppies. "No, I should be the one who has to apologize for losing my cool. So many things happened all of a sudden and I just..." He glanced back at the baby in his arms. The child was sobbing while wriggling in his arms. "I'm sorry I scared you too, Damian."  
  
"U-Uhm..." Clark who had been silent since the whole argument starts off finally spoke up. "You see... I've noticed that one of your kids isn't feeling well, Mister Wayne."  
  
Tim flinched when he heard the reporter's words. The boy could feel his father's and brother's' gazes towards him.  
  
"Deep fried food doesn't seem to be an appropriate meal for a child who is sick. If you don't mind, I could cook some simple dishes for your family, Mister Wayne."  
  
"Uh, sure," Bruce answered in an embarrassed tone. "I'm sorry you have to see us acting like this, Mister Kent."  
  
The reporter replied with a polite smile as he shook his head. "Don't be, Mister Wayne.”  
  
Clark was left alone once Bruce guided him to the kitchen. Currently, Bruce was calming down his crying baby son in the living room. He could also hear Bruce reprimanding Tim for not telling him about his cold. The child could only reply his father with a weak apology before he was being asked to go back to his room to rest.

* * *

Clark didn’t mind cooking alone in the kitchen. Cooking was a time to relax and be free of any stress for the farm boy. As a teenager, his mother had taught him a few of her secret techniques on how to make a pot of simple yet delicious corn stew. Clark was determined to impress Bruce and the kids with his cooking.  
  
As the journalist was peeling the skin from the potatoes, Bruce walked into the room. "Let me help." The billionaire said as he rolled up his sleeves. Damian was under the care of his two eldest sons, as a punishment for quarreling over a petty issue.  
  
Before Clark could deny any form of help from the billionaire, Bruce had pulled a knife out from the knife block. "Look, Kent. I do not know how to cook, but I could at least peel and cut up the vegetables while you prepare the other ingredients." Bruce spoke as he had his eyes directed towards the potato in his hands. "Besides, the kids only have cereals and toasts in the morning. I am pretty sure they're all hungry -- especially Tim. Two people working together should make the work done quicker."  
  
When the potato was peeled completely, Bruce diced the tuber into small pieces.  
  
There was complete silence between the adults afterward.  
  
However, none of them felt uncomfortable about it. In fact, the two men started to find a good pace to work together. As Bruce chopped and diced the ingredients, Clark was seasoning the chicken breast. Clark accepted the bowl of diced vegetables from Bruce as he poured the contents into the boiling water.  
  
As the bubbling pot slowly lowering to a simmer by the damp vegetables, Clark and Bruce’s gazes locked.  
  
Clark gave a bashful smile before he started to stir the stew. It was a little too early to mix it, but the man felt like he had to find something to do before the gaze of the billionaire burned him down. Meanwhile, Bruce continued to stare over at Clark, who started to work a little too clumsily. An amused smile grazed over the billionaire’s attractive feature as he gave out a light chuckle at the other man’s nervous actions.

* * *

Tim knew he shouldn’t feel like this, but he is a little happy of becoming sick. He was allowed to eat in bed. Both Alfred and Bruce never allowed the boys to bring food in their bedroom. But when they were ill and bedridden, they could enjoy this incredible privilege. Tim ate a few slices of apple served by Bruce. The cold fruit cooled down his temperature to be well enough to eat something more solid.  
  
When Clark arrived in the room with the stew, Tim had the strength and the appetite to eat a small portion. The boy asked for a second, and Bruce felt relieved to see his child eating well.  
  
Tim began to rub his eyes once he finished his meal and took medicine. As Clark took the tray with the empty bowl and the empty package of medicine from the bed, Bruce sat beside the child.  
  
“You’re getting tired, Tim?” Bruce asked in a gentle tone as he rubbed soothing circles on Tim’s back.  
  
“Yeah...”  
  
Bruce gave the child’s hair a gentle tousle before he placed a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well, alright?” Tim peered through his heavy eyelids and nodded his head. Bruce turned his attention towards Clark who stood at the other side of the room. The tray with empty dishes was still in his hands.  
  
“I think he liked it. Thank you for the meal.”  
  
Clark replied with a smile. “I’m glad he liked it then.”  
  
They both watched the sleeping eight year old. A chuckle escaped from Bruce's lips when Tim's lips began to twitch.

* * *

  _ **To be continued.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 11st September 2017.


	7. Chapter 7

The **guardian angel** of life  
sometimes _flies so high_ that man  
~~cannot~~ see it, but _**he**_ always is  
looking down upon us, and will _soon_  
hover _ **nearer**_ to us

by Jean Paul

* * *

"Here you go, Alfred."

A bowl of steaming hot corn stew was placed before the butler's view. Alfred raised a curious brow at the food. The man was expecting his Charge and young masters to bring him those oily deep-fried food that the kids enjoyed so much. The old butler knew that sometimes Master Bruce would bring the boys out for those fast food he had forbidden them to eat. Sometimes, the older man would decide to ignore it and allow the boys to have their so called 'Boys' Day Out’ where they could eat those unhealthy meals.

Thus, to see the bowl of stew surprised Alfred. The man stirred the contents in suspicion before he raised a spoonful up and took a sip. The butler allowed the taste to slowly spread in his mouth before he swallowed it down. From the taste and the content, it didn’t seem to be something they bought from a nearby restaurant nor was it good enough to be considered a fancy dish, cooked by a professional chef.

It tasted more like a simple stew that was made by someone in rush, but still didn't forget to pour their passion in during the process.

"I know this is close to impossibility, but... did you make it, Master Bruce?"

The children snickered at Alfred's sly remark while Bruce chuckled. The man shook his head as he sat on the sofa next to the hospital bed.

Alfred had always been an important family member for Bruce. The man was by his side when his parents were no longer there and he had stayed with him all through the years - tolerating his stubbornness, guiding him to the right path of being a father figure for the boys he’d adopted and making sure he eats and sleeps properly.

"Of course not, Alfred." Bruce said, rocking Damian in his arms. The child was sucking on the pacifier, his eyes wandered around the room—it was his first visit to the hospital. "You know me. I may not be completely worthless when it came to cooking, but there is no way I could cook that without professional help."

Alfred nodded his head in agreement. The elderly man knew that Bruce couldn't cook; the most successful meal the billionaire had ever achieved was hard-boiled eggs. The possibility of the man being able to cook stew without Alfred by his side is too mi[ld.

"Clark made it." Bruce said it as he called on Tim who was reading at the corner. Upon hearing Bruce's call, the child placed the book he was reading on the desk before he approached Bruce.

"Clark?" Alfred questioned back. It took the butler a few seconds to remember who Bruce was talking about. "You mean Mister Kent, the reporter from Daily Planet who was supposed to do an interview with you today?"

"Yes." Bruce nodded his head. "The house is a mess when you're not around, Alfred." The man extended a hand as he pushed back Tim's fringes and placed his palm on the boy's forehead to make sure his fever wasn’t returning. "I didn't even notice Tim was feeling unwell until Clark pointed it out. He offered to make lunch for us when he saw Tim's state. He ended up making more than enough for lunch and we heated it up as dinner."

Upon hearing Bruce's words, Alfred gave out a light chuckle as he scooped up another spoonful of the stew. "Mister Kent is really different, isn't he?"

"He is." Bruce agreed along as he gave Tim's hair a gentle tousle. The child gave out a happy giggle–a sign telling Bruce not to worry too much. "I told you from the start, didn't I, Alfred? He just makes me feels at peace. And today... he really helped me a lot."

It was the first time Alfred saw the boy he’d raised show so much of his personal side to a complete stranger. Bruce would usually be very secure with his privacy and disallowed any reporters to interfere. But a miracle is happening; he is allowing a reporter to enter his life bit by bit.

Alfred couldn't say that it is a good thing. After all, some journalists could be two-faced. They could act nice and polite during the interview, but the article they wrote out would be the complete opposite.

However, it was plain to see why Master Bruce placed so much trust in the Kent reporter. The man wasn't greedy and he seemed to be sincere towards his job.

Alfred decided he shall give the reporter a chance.

"I shall make something in return for his delicious meal. What would you suggest, Master Bruce?"

"Cookies!" Dick, Jason and Tim screamed out in unison. Bruce arched a brow in amusement at his boys while Alfred could only smile in delight towards how much the children love his homemade cookies.

"Cookies it is then, young masters."

* * *

The family made their way towards the black Lamborghini. The car had tinted windows all around, including the front, to avoid people recognizing their faces. As Bruce finally got the kids into the import, he started the engine.

Bruce gripped the steering wheel and started to drive. He was planning to go home but the kids (specifically, Dick) had suggested that Bruce drive and show Damian around. Thus, the billionaire was driving with no destination in mind and soon enough, they found themselves on a deserted road. The adult looked around and noticed that there were large crop fields to either side of the road. When his eyes weren’t on the surroundings, they were glancing at the back seat of the car.

Damian sat in the middle between Jason and Tim, his eyes glancing from left to right. They were wide with curiosity and interest as he watched the scenery around him changing constantly.

Bruce was making plans at the back of his mind about places he shall bring his kids around when he had the time. It was at the brief moment a blur in his rear-view mirror caught his attention. He pulled hard on the steering wheel; the car made a sharp U-turn. Bruce pressed down on the gas and his eyes scanned around the surrounding.

Two cars were following them and the distance between them and the unknown cars quickly shortened.

He did not need this right now. He didn’t know what those strangers wanted with him. When his fame and success buried envy in others and these people started to target on his family, it was no joke for the billionaire.

“We’re going pretty fast. What’s wrong, old man?” Jason was the first to speak up as he glanced at the back of the car.

Before Bruce could reply, he had to press down on the gas once again. The cars were coming too close towards them. Breaking and confronting are no longer options now.

The safety of his children would always be his top priority;he glanced at the trio in the back to make sure they weren’t panicking.

Jason had one of his hands over the baby car seat Damian was in. Tim, who sat on the left, stared out of the window with a concerned look as he held one of Damian’s chubby hands. Dick was looking out of the window as well. The usual cheery boy had lost his smile; a deep frown tugged on his face.

When Bruce had to slam the breaks in order to avoid the two cars from blocking him in on both sides, he quickly reached an arm behind him and braced the youngers. He was concerned about Dick’s condition as well, but the teen had more experience in these sort of situations compared to the other three.

The squeal of grinding brakes filled the air.

The kids screwed their eyes closed at the ear-piercing sound. Damian made a little whimper as tears started to form at the corner of his eyes.

Bruce wished that he could tell Damian that they were going to be alright, but at that moment, two enemy cars had turned into five.

“Bruce, get into the crop fields!” Tim yelled it out suddenly. Without thinking, the man listened to his son’s order, made a sharp turn and drove into the crop fields.

Bruce didn’t stop the car until he was deep in the field and was sure that they were well-hidden from the enemies. Once the car stopped, he immediately turned around to check on the children’s condition.

“Are you boys alright? Dick, you didn’t knock your head against the screen, did you? Jason, did you twist your arm? Tim, how does your heart feel? And Damian--”

Before the man could finish his sentence, the baby had burst into tears. Bruce was glad that Alfred had convinced him to soundproof the car, because when Damian’s cries erupted, the air seemed to shake.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” They were the only words Bruce could say as he unbuckled the child from the car seat and cradled him in his arms. It took a few minutes for the boy to finally calm down, thenBruce buckled him back into the seat.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Dick piped up as Bruce pulled the safety belt over himself. “It seemed like someone is after us. Do we go to the police station to make a report now or go back home? I don’t think it is safe for us to be here, they might be searching for us now.”

“First, we go to the police station to fill up the report. I’m not risking my your lives.” Bruce pressed down on the gas. A curse slipped out from the man’s mouth when he realized that the engine had failed to turn over. It was  dead. “Or maybe… we should call the police now so they can come pick us up. It seems like the best idea for now-”

“Mister Wayne?” A voice called from above.  In the sky. Bruce glanced up. A red-caped figure floated on the air, his arms crossed over his chest as he hovered down to land on the ground slowly.

“Need a hand?” Superman questioned with a smile on his face.

* * *

  _ **To be continued.**_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 11st September 2017.


	8. Chapter 8

**≺ NOTES ≻**

  * I made a superbat video recently! Please check on it at [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7lkrpU2Vvk&t=1s)!
  * Have a superbat story request for me? Please send it on [Tumblr](cxramel-cat.tumblr.com)! (  ~~ _ **No promises when I could write it out, though....**_~~ ・゜・(ノД`) )

* * *




Anywhere you are  
I am near  
Anywhere you go  
I'll be there

[What Are Words](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQY4dIxY1H4) by Chris Medina

* * *

Clark enjoys listening to Bruce’s heart. He was typing his report in his hotel room when he unconsciously picked up on the billionaire’s calming heartbeat through his super hearing.

If anyone ever knew about this, they might call him as a creep. However, for someone who was born with the ability to hear every sound in the world -- Clark thinks of this as a compliment. He had been listening to various voices and noises as a child, it used to feel uncomfortable for him because he couldn’t focus on just one sound.

In his usual routine, the man of steel would lie in his bed and listen to his mother’s heartbeat in  Smallville after a tiresome day of work and rescuing the world. But tonight, Clark found himself focusing on another’s heartbeat.

Clark didn’t understand what was so special about Bruce Wayne that allowed him to ‘stalk’ the man’s heart beats. However, he found it relieved his nerves. It was the same experience he usually had when he listened to Martha’s heartbeats.

Because he had been listening to Bruce’s heart, he instantly knew something was wrong when the man’s pulse paced up. In the beginning, he hesitated to rush in aid since he assumed the billionaire could be doing exercise.

However, when he started to pick up the sounds surrounding Bruce and heard crashing along with exclamations from one of the boys -- Clark knew that something was going wrong. He immediately donned his suit as he rushed out the window towards Bruce’s location.

When he arrived on the scene to see Bruce and the boys in a safe condition, a relieved sigh escaped through the lump that had stuck in his throat.

“Mister Wayne?” He called out as he slowly landed down before the car. He flashed a friendly smile to assure the family that he meant them no harm before he took a careful step towards them. “Need a hand?”

Superman watched as the kids stared at him with their mouth gaped wide. It took a second for the boys to recover from their shock before they shouted out with excitement twinkling in their eyes.

“IT’S SUPERMAN!”

“Is it really the REAL Superman? What is Superman doing in Gotham?!”

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting _Superman_!”

The friendly smile spread wide into a grin when the superhero saw how much the boys adored him. He knew he had always been a well-loved figure by kids around their age, but he didn’t expect the Wayne boys to love him just as much as other kids did. After all, Gotham had their own vigilante who was well-adored by the children of the city as well.

“Yes, it’s the real Superman, boys.” As he calmed down the three excited boys, Clark had his attention directed back towards the father who had not spoken a word since the beginning.

“Mister Wayne?”

Bruce who was cradling the baby in his arms tilted his head up upon hearing the call. As their eyes met, Clark swore that it was the second time he felt struck by the man’s gentle gaze that would only be directed to his children.

“Are you alright?” Clark reached his arm out. He was about to touch Bruce’s shoulder when the man moved away, his eyes drifting from his broken car towards the empty crop fields.

“Yes, I am,” Bruce answered half-heartedly. Questions were forming in his head as he tried to figure who might want to attack his family and him.

Obviously, the list was long. He was a well-known billionaire in the eyes of the world. Despite his huge donations for countless campaigns to help those in need, there would always be someone who despised and envied him to the point that they wanted to take away his life.

“Mister Wayne?”

Bruce didn’t realize how deeply he was lost in his thoughts before he heard Superman’s call again. He glanced over his shoulder and he could see his boys giving him the Worried Look.

Bruce realized he had to stop thinking about the _who_ and _why_. The most important issue,  before those questions, is to make sure the kids are in safe surroundings.

“I’m sorry. I spaced out.” Bruce apologized, before he looked down at Damian in his arms. The child was staring back at him with wide eyes before he gave out a gurgle and touched Bruce’s cheek with his chubby palm.

“Thank you for coming to our aid, Superman.” Bruce fixed a smile at the superhero. “As you can see… we’re facing a little issue with our car. It isn’t a big deal but,” He fought back the urge to pull his smile down to a frown. “There are people who are after my boys. I hope you could get us to a reputable police station to make a proper report. Please.”

“Of course, Mister Wayne.” Clark didn’t ask much as he nodded at the man’s weak attempt to ask for help. “If you needed a ride home, after…I don’t mind carrying the car and your family back to your home as well.”

“No, it’s okay. We'll call a cab.”

“What?! But Bruce!” Dick was the first to exclaim out in denial.

“I said no, Dick,” Bruce replied bluntly as he kept a stern expression on his face.

“It’s going to be our first experience floating in the sky! While sitting in the car! Also, it’s not every day that you get the chance to have Superman carry you home! So pleaseeeeeeee? Pretty pleaseeeeeee?”

The technique of puppy eyes used to work well on Bruce during Dick’s younger age, but as Bruce grew older and Dick reached puberty, the father had grown immune to the petty ability. Bruce stared deep into Dick’s eyes as he raised a brow. He was waited for the boy to give up on trying to manipulate him with rusty skills.

“But Bruce...” Tim was the second to speak up. “What if the bad people try to attack us again? Perhaps it’s really safer for Superman to bring us home.”

Tim’s words allowed Bruce to think twice. The man stayed in silence for a moment as he hesitated. He wasn’t sure whether to accept his son’s opinion or not.

He could hire bodyguards to patrol around the mansion. But Bruce dislikes having his privacy intervened by strangers he doesn’t trust. However, just because Superman lent a hand to help doesn’t make him any less a suspicious figure either.

Still, a ride home by the Man of Steel seemed the best way to assure the children’s safety home for now.

“... fine. But only a ride home.” He saw grins split on the boy’s mouth. Jason started to tease Dick about how he had reached the age where his puppy eyes could no longer lower Bruce’s persistence. Although he itched to join the conversation, Bruce decided to ignore the two behind him to avoid embarrassing his eldest son any further.

“However,” Bruce spoke up to stop his boys’ cheers at the back. “We are not making Superman our guard for the entire night. Not only is it an inconvenience, he has an entire world to save as well. So we’re only getting a ride home. Nothing more and that is the end of the discussion.”

The boys whined loudly. Superman, who stood beside Bruce, could only chuckle at the heart-warming moment between the Waynes.

* * *

After the trip to the police station to fill out the report and answer all the questions asked by the police, Bruce found himself gazing out of the car as Superman flew them home. It was the boys who requested Superman bring them home, but the noisy trio had fallen asleep in the car before halfway.

Dick and Jason leaned on each of Bruce’s shoulders. Tim was lying on his lap, his legs stretched out and toppling over Dick’s legs. The older boy didn’t seem to mind as he snuggled closer towards Bruce, seeking for warmth from the adult. Damian was held in one of his arms and close to his chest, sleeping peacefully.

The current situation Bruce found himself in wasn’t the most comfortable state for the father, but Bruce couldn’t complain as it was rare to have any of the older boys (especially Jason) stick with him these days.

However, he won’t say he wants to raise any of his boys from the beginning again. Damian is more than enough for him to care for. The baby is adorable and loved -- just like any of the other boys when he took them home for the first time.

But, four babies at the same time?

There is a limit on how much Alfred’s aging body could tolerate from the exhaustion of babysitting and Bruce grimaced at the thought of waking up to a quadruple amount of baby wailings.

“We’ve arrived, Mister Wayne.”

Bruce looked away from the window and towards the superhero who opened the door for him. When Superman saw how the billionaire was snuggled up by all of his boys, the Man of Steel chuckled before he reached his arms out towards Bruce.

“May I?”

Bruce hesitated. Dick might shake awake in fear if he woke up in the arms of someone he is unfamiliar with. It had been years since the boy walked out from his trauma of witnessing his parent’s death, but the memories would still lead Grayson to nightmare and panic attacks.

“You don’t have to carry them. I can wake them up.”

“It’s okay, Mister Wayne. The boys seemed exhausted, let them sleep. I’llmake sure to be extra gentle with them.”

Without another word, Superman slid his hands over to Jason and picked the boy up from his sleeping spot. The superhero held the ten years old in one arm as though he weighed nothing before he picked Tim up with another arm. Before Superman could ask if he should pick up Dick after he placed the two in bed, Bruce raised a hand up, signaling ‘no’.

Bruce shifted slightly so he could get into a better position. “Dick…?” The father gave his eldest son’s shoulder a gentle shook as he whispered. “We’re home, Richard. It’s time to get up.”

The teen gave out a groan before he raised an arm to stretch. He rubbed his eyes before murmuring out several inaudible words towards Bruce. The father stroked his son’s hair gently before he murmured a few reassuring words back to the boy’s ear.

Finally, Dick woke up from his sleep. The teen held a tight grip on the hem of Bruce’s shirt as he followed his father’s steps.

At the moment, Dick seemed more like the traumatized child Bruce picked up in the beginning.

Fragile, clingy yet precious for the man.

Despite being a teen, Dick is still holding up some behavior that would make him remain childlike in Bruce’s view forever.

* * *

Bruce placed Damian in the crib and tugged the blanket up to the baby’s chest. Dick guided Superman to his sibling’s room and now the eldest Wayne went back to his deep slumber as well.

The father could feel his eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion and lack of sleep, but his persistence took the better part of him. Once he peeked over each of his boy’s room to make sure they were deeply asleep, Bruce walked downstairs and towards the kitchen.

The man was waiting for his espresso to brew as he sat on the dining chair. A hand supported his head as Bruce stared mindlessly at the coffee machine.

“Still awake?” A voice asked and Bruce looked at the window.

A red-caped figure stood outside, a concerned smile was on his face as he waited in patience for the billionaire to open the door for him.

“You’re still here? I thought your job was done.” Bruce asked in curiosity as he opened the window door, allowing the superhero to come in.

“I did plan on leaving, but I saw the kitchen was bright and I decided to come and check to make sure it isn’t someone suspicious.” Superman gave out a nervous chuckle before his eyes caught the sign of the brewing machine. “Coffee at this hour? Shouldn’t you be asleep as well, Mister Wayne?”

Bruce shook his head as he walked over to the coffee machine. It gave out a beeping sound and the billionaire poured a mug for himself and the superhero before him.

“Do you think I could sleep when my boys might be in danger any time? I am pulling an all-nighter.”

Bruce placed one of the mugs on the counter before he took a generous sip of his own. A satisfied sigh escaped through Bruce’s chest. He walked from behind the counter and towards  the dining table.

“What about you, Superman? Shouldn’t you be zipping across some places saving people? You’re not skipping your work, are you?”

The superhero accepted the mug of coffee on the counter before he followed after Bruce.

“You need sleep, Mister Wayne. If it made you feel any better, I have super hearing and I don’t need sleep. I could check on you and the boys every thirty minutes to make sure the mansion is in good safety.”

Bruce wasn’t pleased to hear about the other’s abilities. However, he knew that if he denied the superhero’s kind offer -- it would make the entire situation suspicious for Superman.

“... fine. I’ll try to sleep after checking on some of the paperwork on my desk.”

In the mild moment, Bruce saw the superhero beaming in happiness like a dog who was enjoying its petting session. The man brushed the crazy thought away before he poured out his mug of coffee into the sink.

“Thank you for accepting my word, Mister Wayne. I hope you have a good sleep tonight.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. The single sip of caffeine was too weak to keep him awake and he might just drop to sleep the moment he reached his room.

“Goodnight, Superman.”

* * *

_**To be continued.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 11st September 2017.


	9. Chapter 9

_"For the majority of us, the past is regret, the future an experiment."_ \- Mark Twain

* * *

_ There was a loud bang. _

_ He watched as his father’s body collapsed down to the ground. _

_ His blood ran cold, his eyes bulged wide, and his body turned numb. _

_ In the brief moment, his mother rushed towards the stranger and grappled with the gun pointed at him. _

_ The weapon was pointed towards her instantly. _

_ He wished he had done something. _

_ Something… something that could have saved one of his parents. _

_ His mother. _

**_Bang!_ **

_ Another sharp gunshot. _

_ His mother’s pearl necklace torn apart, the beads rolled down to the ground. _

_ Her body dropped next to his father’s. _

_ The gun moved towards him. _

_ He shivered -- like a coward; he stood in his position dumbfounded as he tried to catch his breath. _

_ Footsteps were approaching them. _

_ The murderer gave out a ‘tch’ as he lowered the gun and walked away from him. _

_ At last, he regained his conscious. _

_ “... mum!  _ **_MUM!_ ** _ ” _

_ He crouched down, shaking his mother’s body. _

_ There was no response. _

_ “Dad…  _ **_DAD!_ ** _ ” _

_ He turned towards his father as he shook his shoulders. _

_ Thomas Wayne’s dimming eyes gazed towards his son. _

_ “Bruce...” _

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.  **_BA-DUMP!_ **

Clark was awoken from his ‘sleep’ when he sensed the sudden rapid heartbeats of Bruce Wayne. Mumbles were escaping from the billionaire’s lips as his heartbeats paced up. Donning his Superman suit, Clark rushed to the Wayne mansion.

When he arrived at the scene, he saw Bruce shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The man’s eyelids were tightly closed, but his brow was furrowed. His hands were gripping the blanket, tense and refusing to loosen.

Clark knew what that meant.

Bruce was having a nightmare.

“Mister Wayne!” Clark tried to keep his tone low since the kids were fast asleep. He gave the trembling shoulder a light push, but it didn't seem to affect the billionaire. If anything, he sensed that Bruce’s dream was getting even drearier.

Think, Clark,  **_think!_ **

What could he do now?

What… did Ma always do for him?

_ Warmth. _

He placed his opened palm over one of the fists while his other hand wiped the cold sweat away. The knuckle loosened, and Clark curled his hand around Bruce’s. He hoped to transfer some of the heat to the man and assure him that someone was there for him.

“Mister Wayne, wake up!”

_ Please work! _

After a moment, the breath steadied, and the mumbles were gone.

* * *

_ Blood. _

_ There was blood everywhere. _

_ Why was there so much blood? _

_ Blue eyes darted around. _

_ Here. _

_ There. _

**_Everywhere._ **

_ He was trying his best not to look at what lay to either side. _

_ He could feel his hands shaking. _

_ He almost recoiled when he felt the warm blood soaking into his pants. _

_ He was starting to hyperventilate. _

_ He was going into shock. _

_ “.... Wayne….!” _

_ Someone was calling his name. _

_ “.. _ ister _ Wayne!” _

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

The bloody scene turned black. A warm hand obscured his view of the traumatizing scene.

_ ‘Alfred…?’ _

It was the first person to flash across his mind. But he was proved wrong when an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Calm down, Mister Wayne...”

His intuition acted on its own. Bruce grabbed the stranger’s hand which covered his eyes. In a quick second, he threw the person over his shoulder and out of his bed.

The attack would have caused an ordinary person to break a few bones. But Clark is Superman;he is unwounded -- but dumbfounded.

Bruce huffed and puffed to steady his rapid heartbeats. His blurry vision cleared out once he calmed down his breathing. The billionaire blinked at the scene before him -- Superman sitting on the floor, disbelief written all over his face due to Bruce’s sudden attack.

“... Superman…?”

Bruce called out in surprise. The mansion was protected under the high technology security he installed to assure the children’s safety. No one -- unless they are one of the Waynes -- should be able to enter unless they hired an elite hacker to crack  the system. But then again… the person who stood before him is Superman. He probably sneaked in with his super-speed before the security system could even sense his presence.

“What are you doing here?”

At this moment, Bruce didn’t bother to try and act like the cheery playboy everyone knew him as. He was tired, and the nightmare he’d experienced wasn’t helping him to feel any good at all. In fact, he just wanted to drink down an entire pot of espresso and numb himself with work right now.

“... I sensed your heartbeats. Racing.” Superman stood up and dusted himself. “I was worried that you might be attacked. I…  _ promised _ . I promised to keep the children safe. If anything was to happen to you, I won’t know how to explain to the kids either.”

“The entire Manor is under the protection of the high technology security invented by Wayne-tech. Honestly, there is no reason for you to worry about our safety. No one could barge into Wayne Manor easily -- unless they’re a super-speed being like you.” Bruce gave out an exasperated sigh at the superhero’s reply as he pinched the bridge of his nose lightly.

“... is that so?” Bruce could see the disappointment in Superman’s eyes. However, he was too tired to care about the superhero’s feelings.

Superman, who is the embodiment of justice, is invading his life more than he should. He has every right to be mad.

“Well, you saw what you want. I’m fine, so could you kindly leave now?” Bruce threw the blanket over himself, curling his figure as he stared mindlessly at red fabric around himself.

“... I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

There was no way to hide the additional weight which sank at the corner of the king-sized bed. Bruce did not move or snap. He was too exhausted to care, but Superman was determined.

He stared at the man, waiting for his stubborn pride to surrender.

“... seriously, what is wrong with you?” The silence in the room was finally broken down by a sigh from Bruce.

Superman took a daring step. “As I said, I am worried about your condition.” He stated in a soft tone, and his arm extended out as he brushed back the billionaire’s hair.

“I’ve never seen such an annoying superhero in my entire life.” Bruce slapped the hand away.

He disliked the treatment he was receiving. It reminded him of the scared little boy who lost his parents to the hand of a criminal. It brought back the memories he wanted to forget.

Bruce felt light-headed despite his determination of staying up the entire night. His eyelids threatened to close as Superman rubbed soothing circles on his back. 

When was the last time someone -- aside from the boys and Alfred -- showed him affection?

When was the last time he revealed his weak side in front of someone?

A warm feeling fluttered in his chest as nostalgic memories began to flood in his mind.

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

_ The young Bruce Wayne sat at the bottom of the stairs; tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to keep himself warm from the cold weather and the traumatizing scene which played in his mind. The glassy blue eyes finally looked up when he saw the familiar figure of his butler, Alfred Pennyworth. The coat was forgotten as he stood up from his seat. He ran into the welcoming arms, clinging to the adult for dear life. _

_ Neither of them spoke. Alfred wrapped his arms around his young master’s shivering figure. Tears were starting to form in Bruce’s eyes again. He couldn’t control himself any longer. The strong barrier he created shattered, by the sincerity of the only family he was left with. _

_ The warmth of Alfred added by the embrace; Bruce welcomed the comfort as he finally cried his agony out.  _

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

Bruce looked over his shoulder at Superman as the man gave a warm smile -- it was very similar to the vague image he had in his mind,

“You could stay around as long as you want. But you’re not allowed to touch me.”

Superman pulled his hand back and smiled tenderly at the man. He might be rejected, but he was glad that Bruce allowed him to stay around.

“Thank you for your understanding, Mister Wayne.”

For the rest of the night, neither of them talked. The warmth of Superman’s body added by the brief contact of their backs pressed close to each other’s comforted Bruce more than he wished for. It was the first time in many months that he felt the strong desire to sink into slumber.

* * *

Clark wanted to play his role as a friend. But at the same time, he wondered if he could be called as a friend of Bruce. He understood how forceful his actions seemed, but his concern for the man had gotten the better half of his dignity.

There was nothing more disturbing than seeing someone being haunted by an endless reminder of their failure. Clark had been in Bruce’s situation before -- however, he couldn’t imagine how the man feels, losing both of his parents at such a young age. Pa’s death had always been a reminder of Clark’s failure as Superman, but at the least, he had Ma by his side to help him walk out of the pain and guilt.

Did Bruce have someone like Ma for him?

He only understood the man through the media. There were a lot of mysteries about Bruce Wayne that was never solved. And Clark wished -- through his identity as Superman --, he could understand Bruce better and feel what he felt someday.

But for now, this was all he could do.

* * *

Tim Drake was the first to wake from his slumber once the alarm clock rang. The child rubbed his sleepy eyes as he sluggishly got out from his bed. In the regular routine, the eight-year-old should be washing his face and brushing his teeth by now, but, Alfred had given him the task of waking Bruce up at seven-thirty.

Dragging his wobbling body towards his destiny--Bruce’s room--Tim didn’t knock on the door as he tiptoed up and pushed down the door lever.

“Bruce, wake up--”

Tim blinked at the scene before him.

Superman sat at the corner of Bruce’s bed. A smile curved on the superhero’s face when he noticed the presence of Tim. Pressing his finger against his lips, Superman made a soft ‘shhh’ sound before he turned his attention back to Bruce.

Tim noticed the change in Superman’s eyes the moment his gaze directed to Bruce.

He had seen many different kinds of eyes people made and knew every single one of them. He remembered when he saw the women on the television clinging on Bruce. The women’s eyes were filled with greed and anything in the dictionary that related to cash. Love seemed always to be pushed away in the corner in a relationship with Bruce. He was just there to make his partner feel good.

However, those weren’t the eyes he was seeing.

As he watched Superman stand up from the bed and leave, the eight-year-old felt like he understood something.

Maybe _—just maybe–-_ someone could love Bruce just as much as he loved them some day.

* * *

_**To be continued.**_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 24th December 2017.


	10. Chapter 10

A **father** is a **_man_ **  
Who **expects** his **_son_ ** to be as **good**  
As **_he was meant to be_ **.

Frank A. Clark

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth wasn't just the butler of the Wayne Manor. In fact, the man was also the one who babysat the boys when work packed the supposed father of theirs. Thus, he knew something was wrong right away when young Master Dick Grayson finally arrived at the school parking.  
  
The teenager's head was towards the floor and his hands were tightly clenched on his bag straps. Instead of taking his usual seat in the front, Dick went to the back door. Without a word, the thirteen-year-old forced himself on the seat where Jason sat. The ten-year-old gave out a light grunt in annoyance upon being pushed. But reluctantly, he moved to the seat beside Tim.  
  
Even he felt the difference in his sibling and didn't want to make the situation any worse.  
  
Tim who sat at the farthest watched as Dick placed his bag down. He was muttering obscenities under his breath, and his eyes glanced back at the school building.   
  
When the door slammed closed, and the thirteen-year-old was safe in the soundproof and window tinted car, he broke down. His arms wrapped around his bag as he buried his face at the top of the bag. As a few moments passed by, soft sobs began to fill in the car.  
  
Alfred's gaze went to his rearview mirror as he looked at the reflection of his young master in worry. Dick's shoulders were shaking; his breath choked as sobs dominated his breathing pattern.  
  
Seeing the typical cheery teen in such poor shape, Alfred could only jump to the worst conclusion.  
  
Turning around to the backseat, the old butler patted on Dick's knee. "Did someone hurt you, young master Dick?"  
  
Something like this had happened in the past during the first few months Bruce adopted Dick. However, Alfred had never expected the past to replay itself ever since the teen started his eighth year at middle school.   
  
"Did someone tease you?" The butler rubbed his palm in a soothing circle at his young master's back.   
  
Upon hearing the questions, Jason unbuckled his seatbelt. A glint of anger flashed across the boy's eyes, and he seemed ready to go beat up anyone who looked suspicious. It was his first time seeing Dick in such a sad state, and it could only mean that someone had severely hurt the teen.  
  
Unforgivable.  
  
Dick saw the anger written on Jason's face, and he shook his head in an instant to stop the other from doing anything foolish. Between his sobs, the teen finally started to explain. " _S-s-stupid..._ _i-i-idiotic..._ Valentine's Day! ** _I HATE VALENTINES_**!" The last sentence was a scream.   
  
The hostility everyone felt just mere moments ago vanished and instead, awkwardness replaced it.  
  
Dick Grayson was crying over ** _girl problems_**!  
  
For a small moment of time, everyone was clueless what to do. Alfred gave an awkward cough as he turned back to the front. Jason wasn't too good at the comforting thing, and unfortunately, that had rubbed off on Tim as well. The duo shared a look, and a quiet conversation began.  
  
Fixing a glare at each other, both of their eyes screamed ** _'DO SOMETHING!'._**  
  
Tim was the one who reacted quicker during the eye-to-eye conversation. With a jerk to his chin and a glance to Jason, the message was well-written in the younger's eyes. _'Comfort him right now!'_  
  
Jason blinked twice before his eyes narrowed to a fiery glare. _'No way in hell! You do it!'_ The ten-year-old scowled at his younger sibling in the hope that his heated glare could break the other's persistence.   
  
Unfortunately, after three years of being under the same roof, Jason's menacing glare no longer affected Tim. With a sigh of defeat, the ten-year-old buckled his seatbelt and glanced over at the crying teen. Giving another sigh from the deeper part of his body, Jason could only hope that any higher power could have some pity on him.  
  
Clearing his throat, Jason patted Dick's back and said in an uncertain tone. "Uhm... so, do you want to talk about it?"  
  
At hearing the question from Jason, Dick's head shot up. His eyes were teary and red; there was a little snot dripping out from his nose as he wiped the falling tears with his sleeve. "Oh god, Jay. You're creeping me out; please stop! Alfred, take us home. All of this is too embarrassing!"  
  
Feeling a little rejected but was also glad that Dick didn't want to talk, Jason let out a sigh of relief. Alfred obeyed the request of the teen without a word. The entire drive home was silent except for the sniffles and choked sobs of Dick.  
  
When they reached home, Dick dashed into the Manor without greeting Bruce and Damian who stood by the door. Everyone watched in confusion as the teen hurried upstairs.  
  
"What's wrong with him today?"   
  
"I suppose young master Dick has reached the age at which he feels attraction towards the opposite gender. And he probably experienced the bittersweet of heartbreak today, Master Bruce."  


* * *

It had been five years since Bruce adopted Dick. Most of the time, the boy never cried. The only time Bruce remembered Dick being a crying mess was the first few months after his parents' death. But aside from that, there was never once he saw his adoptive son being so broken.   
  
Thus, when the boy cries, Bruce had expected Dick to cry over something which is worth for his tears. But for it to be a girl, that was just ridiculous. He was sure that he trained Dick well enough not to cry for stupid reasons.   
  
The boy is stronger than that.   
  
With that idea in mind, he walked to his son's room. Knocking on the door once to tell Dick about his arrival, he turned the doorknob and let himself in. When he opened the door, he could see that Dick was still sobbing, and Bruce hoped that he could put an end to that.   
  
Standing in the doorway, Bruce crossed his arms over his chest as he said with disgust in his tone. "So that's it. You're allowing a girl to take over your emotions. I expected you to be stronger than that, Dick."   
  
The teen looked up. His eyes narrowed to a weak glare. It was rare for Dick to have a point of view which was different from his father. However, when their opinions did crush against each other's, the conversation had never ended well.   
  
Before Dick could make a comment about Bruce's remark, the adult interrupted. "Was that girl worth of your tears and time? I've trained you better than this."   
  
“Bruce, did you ever bother to think that maybe it’s not just about training?” Dick argued back. His tears had stopped, and now he looked ready to put up a fight against his adoptive father. “Maybe it’s about  **ACTUAL** feelings! And the feeling of failure, because maybe you’re just  **_NOT_ ** good enough!”   
  
“Well then, do you  **_FEEL_ ** better that someone else is degrading your worth? If you’re  **NOT** good enough, that means you need to improve yourself. Care to explain  **_WHY_ ** aren’t you trying to be better? Instead, you’re running away from the problem and crying like a baby.” Bruce deeply inhaled before he continued. “Think about it, Dick. You’re better than you believe.”   
  
With that said, Bruce left the room. A sigh escaped his lips as he gently massaged his throbbing temple. Hopefully, the words he said could go through the thick skull of his son.

* * *

Dick had been in deep thoughts since the conversation with Bruce. His mind was a mess, and he had tried to calm himself by reading. Half an hour passed, and the teen failed miserably in clearing up his mind. With a groan of annoyance, he placed his comic book down and laid on the bed.   
  
He’d known Bruce for five years. As much as he appreciated the man for adopting him and treating him like a real family member, he had also been fed up with his stuck-up attitude in handling emotional problems.    
  
"... I need a good stretch and fresh air."   
  
Dick sat up, grabbing the backpack which lay on the floor. He pulled a few candy bars he’d hidden under the bed and packed them in his bag along with a set of clean clothes. Picking up the blue hoodie which sat on his desk along with his wallet and phone, the teen went over to the window. As he opened the panels, cold breeze brushed through him. With years of being an acrobat and training by Bruce, Dick felt no fear to leap out. The moment his feet touched the ground, he was sprinting towards the front of the Manor to fetch his shoes.   


* * *

Alfred had heard his harsh talk with Dick, and as expected, Bruce was being lectured by his elder. The butler made a point by telling Bruce to choose his words wisely during the conversation with Dick and the other boys.    
  
"Your incapability to express any emotion through words might cause permanent emotional scars for them, Master Bruce."   
  
While Bruce didn't think he had said anything wrong aside from being ‘a little too harsh’, Alfred had threatened to cut down his caffeine for the upcoming days if he couldn't get Dick's forgiveness.   
  
Thus, here he was–standing by the staircase and clearing his throat for the best moment to get the teen out from his room and apologize.   
  
"Dick?" Bruce called out, expecting a response. "Would you like to join me for tea, Dick? There was something I needed to tell you." He waited for a solid minute. There was no response, causing him to wonder if the teen was still angry with him. Another minute passed, and that was the moment when he realized that something wasn’t right.   
  
" **_Richard John Grayson!_ ** " Bruce exclaimed out. This time, it was pure anger lingering in his tone. Dashing up towards the teen's room, he slammed the door open. As expected, the room was empty with the window panels opened wide. Bruce's heartbeat sped up.   
  
"Dick!" Rushing towards the windows, he leaned forward and looked outside.   
  
With the height advantage, he saw the teen dressed in his flashy blue hoodie running away. He watched his son for a moment longer, hesitating on whether he shall chase after or no.    
  
The folded letter sitting on the desk allowed him to make his decision. He picked the note up and flipped it upon -- recognizing the handwriting as Dick's in an instance.   
  
_ ' I'll be back by night -- or maybe tomorrow. I decided that I need a silent moment to think about the words you said. Don't bother trying to follow me. ' _   
  
It ended with a serious tone. There were only three simple sentences written on the paper, and that was all Bruce needed to know. Closing the window but not locking it, the adult leave the room.    
  
He walked downstairs, answering Alfred's concern with the note Dick had left before he went to the kitchen. Bruce was going to pull out one of the strongest liquors he stored, but the remembrance of his busy schedule and health convinced him to leave the bottle on the desk. The pot of freshly brewed coffee which sat on the desk caught Bruce's attention. He grabbed it and went to the Batcave, ignoring Alfred's stern gaze.   
  
If a stranger ever found the existence of the Batcave under the Wayne Manor, that individual would not only be shocked by the fact that Batman is Bruce Wayne.    
  
The Batcave was dark and cold -- defining the negative emotions which Bruce would never reveal to the world without donning up his costume. However, the Batcave also contained some of Bruce’s greatest treasures.   
  
Walking to his seat before the screen, the adult sat down and picked up a domino mask scattered on the desk. Rubbing on the smooth texture of the item with his thumb, Bruce poured a cup of hot coffee for himself and took a gulp.   
  
He spent the day nursing his caffeine while trying to work on figuring a crime scene. However, his concentration was constantly interrupted by the questions of what had happened to his relationship with Dick.   
  
“Teenagers and their puberty...”    
  
Bruce murmured under his breath as he rubbed he ran a hand through his hair.   


* * *

A journalist in public, a superhero in secret. Although becoming both was a decision of his own, Clark had to admit that being both of the characters at the same time could be exhausting. His super hearing allowed him to sense the danger which happened around the world and there was no way he would let a bad guy threatening someone's safety when he could help.    
  
At the other side, Clark could have finished his drafts in ease if only he weren't worried about someone finding him using his super speed during work hours. However, even without the concern of his identity as Superman being found out, Clark would still prefer not to use his super power during work.   
  
At least, when he was working, he wanted to feel like an ordinary human.   
  
As he finally finished editing his drafts and picking up the ingredients for his dinner at the supermarket, the reporter was making the plan of giving himself a rest during his shower. However, his thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his phone.    
  
Picking his phone from his pocket, Clark raised a brow curiously, at seeing a number which he did not recognize.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Mister Kent!" A familiar cheerful called. “Do you still remember me? I’m Richard Dick Grayson."   
  
It didn't took long for Clark to remember the name due to the boy's connection with Bruce Wayne. "... yes, I do? Is there something I could help you about, Richard...?"   
  
"Oh, you see..." An awkward laughter came along, and Clark did not have a good feeling about this. "Right now, I'm at Metropolis. I had used up all of my pocket money for the taxi fee and a quick dinner. I was wondering if you could allow me to stay at your house for the night...?"

* * *

_**To be continued.**_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 24th of December 2017.


	11. Chapter 11

You are _perfect_ ,  
exactly as you are.  
With all your **flaws** and **problems** ,  
there's no _need_ to change anything.

All you _need_ to change is  
the _**thought** _ that you aren't good enough.

\-- J. Cole

* * *

"... so, that's what  _exactly_ happened. I hope you don't mind your kid staying up at my apartment for the time being. "

A deep sigh escaped through Bruce's parted lips. He lifted a hand, gently massaging his aching forehead. The current situation was an unexpected probability. Yes, he had expected that the teen wouldn’t come home today -- but he had not expected Dick to go all the way to Metropolis just to avoid him.

The mere thought saddened him.

"I'm sorry for the problems Richard has caused you, Mister Kent. I will pick him up tomorrow once I'm free from work."

He had an urgent meeting with the other stockholders of Wayne Enterprise. Not to mention, Batman had a case he needed to solve.

The woes of having an emotional teenage son.

Dick had always been the most sensitive among the other boys despite being the oldest. Bruce knew that Dick's personality did not suit with his, and there was no doubt they would clash against each other one day when Dick was older.

He just didn't expect the day would come so quickly.

* * *

  **Three years ago.**

* * *

_"Bruce...?"_

_Deep slumber broke when the sleepy man heard the familiar child’s voice. Bruce sat up, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness in his room as soon as possible. Once his vision cleared, he was surprised to find ten-year-old Dick Grayson beside his bed, staring at him with wide-awake eyes and his blanket covering his shivering body._

_"Dick...? What's wrong?" Bruce yawned as he glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It's five in the morning." His voice lingered with sleepiness._

_"W-Well..." The child stammered through his words as he looked down in embarrassment. "I... had a nightmare. Can I... can I sleep with you today? Even just for the next few hours?"_

_Upon hearing the word 'nightmare,' Bruce pulled himself awake as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder._

_"Nightmare? As in, the bad memories....?"_

_As Dick nodded, Bruce pulled the silk blanket aside, revealing a space beside him. "Come here." He gestured to the boy._

_Dick gave another quick nod as he clumsily climbed the huge bed. Bruce watched as the small figure lingered over him before he lay down._

_"I'm sorry... for disturbing your sleep and being a scaredy cat."_

_Bruce ran his hand through Dick's sweaty fringes. "We used to sleep together back when you’d just arrived here. Don't you remember? There is nothing to feel ashamed of."_

_"Thank you, Bruce." Dick shifted himself to a more comfortable style on the bed. "Do you... do you think Alfred might be awake? I think I would like to have a mug of milk."_

_A smile slowly curled on the thin line of the adult's lips as he chuckled at the boy's timid request._

_"With a spoon of honey? I don't' think Alfred would like the thought of you having something sweet early in the morning. But we can keep this a secret from him. What do you think?"_

* * *

"I... hope this is not too much to ask for." Bruce took a deep inhale. "But... could you prepare milk for Dick before sleep time? With a spoon of honey. It should be sweet enough."

For all that Bruce remembered, Dick still has his nightmare once in awhile despite reaching his teens. He did not like the thought of Dick's panic attack acting up in a place where he couldn't arrive as soon as possible.

"The drink helps him sleep easier. He is the type who recognizes his bed. His favorite bedtime drink might allow him to sleep easier in a place he is unfamiliar with."

* * *

_The small figure suddenly stirred in his sleep. Dick turned his head around to rest his cheek on the left side of his pillow. Bruce raised his hand as he placed it on the boy's head. Rough, calloused fingers ran through Dick's hair. Bruce watched as every strand of short black hair fell back in unkempt place._

_Dick had his chest pressed close against Bruce's arm. The adult could feel the child's heartbeat, and it relaxed him._

_There was never once Bruce expected himself to have the courage to love again. But this boy, this precious young boy of his -- he is a gift for him._

_A miracle._

_"I hope you have a sweet dream, my Robin."_

_A gentle kiss planted on the sleeping child's forehead._

* * *

When Clark placed the mug of milk in front of Dick, the teen raised a brow in question. The man smiled back at his questioning gaze as he took his seat beside the boy.

"Bruce's reminder," Clark answered, taking a sip of his beverage. "Warm milk, with a teaspoon of honey. He said the sweetness should be perfect for you."

Dick reluctantly took the mug. He wrapped his palms around it, warming his cold fingers with the heat of the milk. "I didn't know he still remembered about this." He murmured as he took a dainty sip.

"It tastes... a little different. But still, it brings back some old memories."

Clark chuckled at the comment. "It might be something to do with the type of honey used."

"Oh, i-it's okay." Dick took another quick sip as he tried to cover up his embarrassment. "I'm not complaining about it. Back in the old days, I used to eat waffles with the same brand of honey. It was the time when I was still a circus kid."

Four years had passed since the tragic accident happened to his parents.

Four years had passed since he met Bruce.

Four years had passed since he became the Robin to Batman.

* * *

  **Two and eight months ago.**

* * *

_During one peaceful night, Dick awoke at being disturbed by a sudden noise. In the beginning, he thought it was the rustle of a gentle breeze. The sound was so soft and barely audible for him to sense it. His other guess had been the stray who happened to rustle its way through one of the perfectly trimmed bushes of Alfred's._

_He was feeling thirsty, so he got down from his bed and decided to went downstairs. When he passed by Bruce's room, Dick realized that the sound came from the chamber. The closer he got, the clearer he could hear the noise being similar to a muffled sob._

_Dick slowly creaked the door open. Through the small space, he saw Bruce sitting at the corner of his bed and sweating heavily. The man had his hands covering his mouth, and his broad frame was quivering._

_It was at the moment Dick realized that Bruce was trying to kill away the sound of his sobs._

_The boy's stupor awoke as he decided to push the door open completely. Bruce flinched, realizing the presence of Dick on his doorway._

_Seeing the boy, the man quickly wiped his eyes dry._

_"D-Dick? I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"_

_"Bruce, are you crying?" Dick ignored the question as he climbed onto the king-sized bed. "Is it a scary dream?"_

_Bruce did not answer his question. However, he nodded his head._

_"What did you dream of?" Dick touched Bruce's knees, and the adult let his hand cover the child's._

_"You could say so." His other hand patted Dick's head. "But it's nothing now." His heart was feeling pricked just by seeing how worried the boy was._

_"No, it's not okay!" Dick frowned. An innocent child would have imagined nightmares being monsters and daunting beasts. However, Dick knew better about Bruce's bad dream. "You shouldn't keep all your secrets to yourself, Bruce! If you don't feel good, you should let us know! Alfred and I, we are here for you, Bruce."_

_He opened his arms wide and went into action. Dick pounced onto Bruce. He gave no chances for the adult to fight back and caused Bruce to fall on his bad._

_"Please, Bruce. Trust me more. I care about you, and I don't like the fact that you're hiding something from me."_

_In the beginning, Bruce's eyes widened in shock. However, once he had regained from his stupor, he started to rub soothing circles on his child's back. One of his arms wrapped around Dick's frame to keep the boy close to him._

_"I'm sorry to make you worried, Dick." Bruce whispered. "I will try to trust you more from now on. I promise, Dick."_

* * *

Little arguments happened once in awhile between both of them. However, the four years of life with Bruce was entertaining and exciting.

The daily crime fighting was fun despite being dangerous.

The arrival of Jason and Tim allowed him to become an elder brother figure.

Most of all, he had walked out of his trauma and lived a good life until now.

He is sure that this is what his parents would have hoped to happen for him as well.

Dick had his eyes glued to the television which displayed news about what was going on in Gotham. Nothing much interested the teen until the program mentioned Batman. The pair of blue eyes widened upon seeing a familiar figure in the Robin suit he used to wear.

Jason.

His heart skipped a beat when Jason missed a step on the tall building and fall off. In the very moment, Dick swore that he stopped breathing as he watched the younger falling.

Relief washed over when another familiar figure dressed in black swung forward and caught the boy in his arms.

"Dick?"

Clark entered the living room with a set of clean blankets, calling out in concern. The child was dumbfounded, frozen and his heartbeat stopped for the brief moment. The sudden pause gave Clark a good startle.

"H-Huh?" Dick, recovering from his shock, glanced over at the worried adult. "O-Oh, I'm okay, Mister Kent! I was just a little overwhelmed by what I saw on the TV." He explained before accepting the folded blanket given by Clark.

Although the adult had offered for him to sleep on the only bed in the apartment, Dick had declined the offer. He even managed to convince the man that he deserved it more since he was a working man.

Dick spread the blanket open and covered himself with it. The blanket smelled like sunshine, and it was calming down his wrecked nerves.

_'Jason... he was probably reprimanded once they reached home.'_

* * *

“You’re being set monitor duty for one month.”

When Batman set a Robin on the monitor duty, it indicated that they were grounded. It isn't the first time Jason was on monitor duty (Lord knew with the sort of pranks the boy played on the criminals), but it never failed to make Jason feel insecure for being not better compared to Dick.

"It was just an accident. I slipped. It was unintentional."

"It is careless of you," Bruce said in a stern tone. "You would have fallen and broken all of your bones if I hadn’t caught you on time. Your foolishness today might have caused you to lose your life forever!"

"I'm sorry, okay?!" Jason snapped back at Bruce. Of course, he knew that the adult was worried, but his pride stopped him from uttering a sincere apology. "I didn't mean to make you worried. I know that Dick has been going around your head today. I had no intention of adding to the weight of your burden."

With those words spoke, Jason walked past Bruce and towards the stairs in a quick pace. It was a stressful night for both of them, and he did not want their relationship to become more strained than it was for now.

Jason slammed the door loudly. Bruce let out another sigh upon seeing the boy leaving.

He knew he was over-reacting. He should blame himself along with the child's mistake. He was the one who was supposed to train the boy properly to make sure that none of these incidents would happen when he brought Jason out for a crime-fighting night.

Jason isn't Dick. He isn't a skilled acrobat from birth like Dick. He is just a child who grew up on the street, fighting with his bare hands with anything he could grab, to survive another day.

He isn't Dick, he is different, and Bruce as his ward needed to understand that better to make sure that he won't risk a child's life on the battlefield.

* * *

Dick lay on the couch. His eyes wide open, showing no desire of sleeping any sooner. The sofa might not be as comfortable as the bed in Wayne manor, but Dick had experienced worse during his short stay in the orphanage before Bruce adopted him.

His mind was bothered with the questions of 'hows.'

How was Bruce?

Did he injure himself when he did that risky swung to save from the fall?

How was Jason?

Did he get reprimanded and get into another argument with Bruce?

Tim?

Damian?

Alfred?

How was everyone when he wasn't around?

“Is the couch too uncomfortable?”

Dick startled upon hearing the sudden question. He sat up, whirling his head around to see Clark standing behind him in his pajamas.

"I understand if you find the couch uncomfortable. The offer of my bed is still up if you want to change your mind right now."

"No, it's okay." Dick shook his head as he brought his knees up close to his chest. "I am in deep thoughts, so I can't sleep."

Clark sat next to the boy. He offered a smile as he patted Dick on his shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Dick gave a quiet nod. He gripped on the blanket which covered his legs.

"Well, Mister Kent." He took a deep breath before he continues. "In your opinion, do you think that blood relationship is important?"

Clark blinked his eyes at the seemingly ridiculous question. "Why do you ask?"

"You see, sometimes I don't understand Bruce." He gazes settled on the floor. "He is always in control of himself. He is full of mysteries, and he seems more distanced from us than I hoped. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever views us as his family."

"Oh Richard, I'm sure he does." Clark patted Dick's back in comfort. "He might not seem like he cares. But a lot of people know how much he cares for you and your brothers. My colleagues who met Bruce in the charity parties often say that Bruce Wayne had the most genuine smile on his face whenever he talked about his kids."

"R-Really?" Dick's eyes bulged wide. Clark didn't blame the boy for his reaction. He wouldn’t believe it himself when Lois told him about it, either. Before he met Bruce in person and understood about him, Clark used to think that the Gotham Prince was nothing better than a Casanova.

In their first encounter, Clark saw how the billionaire's expression changed from pure boredom to interest whenever his children were brought up. The smile was all Clark needed to see and to understand how much the man loves his family.

Ever since that day, his point of view towards Bruce Wayne had changed.

"He is proud of you boys, and I'm sure he loves you despite the fact that you've no blood relation with him."

A smile quirked up on the corners of Dick's lips. "Thank you, Mister Kent. You are making me feel better than before."

Clark feels a sense of pride swelling up within him. The bitter frown on the boy's face is finally wiped off and replaced by a smile.

"You're welcome, Richard."

* * *

Sensing a delicious aroma, Dick stirred awake. Slowly, the child pulled himself up to a sitting position and stretched his arms.

"Good morning, Richard." Clark poked his head out from the kitchen. He greeted the half-awake teen with a smile. "I hope you don't mind mushroom omelets for breakfast. These are the only ingredients I have in my fridge, and I have to rush to the Planet for a meeting after this."

Dick felt embarrassed upon knowing he was causing Clark the trouble of preparing his breakfast. He quickly got out from the couch and folded up his blanket. "I-I'm sorry that I'm a nuisance, Mr. Kent. Let me help you!"

"It's okay. Just wash your face, brush your teeth and wait for breakfast. It's nearly done. " Clark waved his hand at the offer. "Also, call me Clark. There’s no reason to use formality around me, kid."

* * *

Clark had just placed the plate full of freshly cooked omelet on the desk when the doorbell rang. The man knew who the guest was. He took a quick minute to check on his appearance before he rushed over to open the door.

"Welcome, Mister Wayne." He greeted the man and stepped aside to let him enter. "Richard is taking his shower, and I've prepared breakfast for him."

"Thank you for all that you've done, Kent."

Once again, Clark waved off the gratitude with a chuckle.

"You know, for a teen, Richard isn't a bad kid." He took off his apron and walked over to the hanger to grab his coat. "He is just a little... Emotional? You two need a face-to-face talk for once."

“You say the same things as Alfred, Kent.” Bruce shook his head with a sigh. “It isn’t that easy, especially when I always manage to find some way to hurt Dick with my words unintentionally.”

“Well, maybe that means that you should show your feelings through actions?” He set his duffel bag on the desk and started to work on his tie.

“Actions?”

“Yes.” Clark nodded at Bruce's question. “If it is hard to tell Richard about how much you care and love Richard, maybe all you need is some actions.” Before walking out of the apartment, he placed the key in Bruce's hand. "Don't bother giving it back if you don't have the time. I have an extra one with me."

He said he would leave the two to talk. However, Clark still decided to eavesdrop on them. After all, if both of them decided to break into a fight, Clark did not think he could afford to pay for the damages nor did he felt like accepting Bruce’s offer to fix those damages.

The father and son were in an awkward silence in the beginning -- only the sounds of knife and fork were heard as Dick ate. After a minute or two, Bruce was the one who spoke up.

He questioned Dick about his actions and criticized him.

Then there was a small argument -- no loud yelling, no slamming. It was just Richard speaking in a louder tone than Bruce to get his attention and force him to listen to his opinion.

A sob suddenly broke out. With his X-ray vision, Clark looked past the door and saw Bruce getting up from his chair. His arms wrapped around Richard once he was close enough to the boy. And Richard, without resisting the form of affection, returned the embrace.

A sigh of relief escaped through Clark’s chest.

At least the relationship between Bruce and Richard is slowly being patched up once again.

* * *

**Two and a half years ago.**

* * *

_"Bruce!”_

_The peaceful atmosphere of a pleasant ten o'clock morning shattered by the excited screams of the boy who swung his way through the chandeliers in the hall towards the dining room. Bruce blinked his eyes at Dick upon seeing the boy's arrival. The child was always full of energy. However, he seemed to be extra energetic today._

_"What is it, Dick?" Bruce placed down the newspaper as he took a sip of his coffee._

_"I've grown two centimeters taller today, Bruce!" The child giggled in happiness. "Aren't you proud of me? I'm growing bigger now, and soon enough, I could help you more than just being a sidekick!"_

_Bruce smiled as he placed down his cup of coffee. "Really? I'm looking forward to it, partner."_

_"Does that mean that you're going to need a replacement for Robin soon?" Neither of the two noticed the arrival of the other member of the family. Jason gave out a loud yawn as he made his way towards his seat._

_"W-What? Of course not! I'm the Boy Wonder! Why would you replace me?" The happiness was long forgotten when Dick heard those words._

_Right now, his face was in disbelief and horror._

_" 'Boy Wonder' does not goes well for a teen, don't you agree? And 'Teen Wonder' seems weird. It's only a matter of time you lose the title once you grow up, Grayson." With that said, Jason took a bite of his toast._

_"Well, you knew that when you got older, things had to change. And that goes for the title of 'Boy Wonder' as well..." Bruce wiped the strawberry jam which somehow managed to reach Jason's nose. "It is a reasonable progress of growing up for everyone. But I'm sure that Dick will get through it without a problem --"_

_The adult looked over to prove his point. Instead, his eyes met with a pair of blue eyes which filled with the horror of sudden realization. The wall of confidence was slowly crumbling, and the 'big boy’ was a child once again._

_"D-Does that mean Jason will replace me?" Dick asked feebly._

_"Oh, Dick..." Bruce sighed with a chuckle as he shook his head. "Come here, my boy."_

_Dick ran into Bruce's open arms. He rammed himself into the man's chest. Bruce winced at the sudden impact, but without another word, he placed his palm on the boy's back._

_“You will always be my first boy wonder, no matter how old you get. No one is going to replace you. And the same fact goes for Jason as well.” Bruce stared at the curled body of the eleven years old in his arms. A chuckle escaped his lips as he huddled the boy closer._

_Sometimes, he hoped that time would pass by a little slower._

_So he could have his Boy Wonder by his side for a bit longer._

* * *

  _ **To be continued.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt/pseuds/Holdt) on 19th January 2018.


	12. Chapter 12

But piece by piece, he collected me up  
Off the ground, where you abandoned things   
Piece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me  
Six years old and you know  
He never walks away  
He never asks for money  
He takes care of me  
'Cause he loves me  
Piece by piece, he restored my faith  
That a man can be kind and a father could, stay

"Piece By Piece" by Kelly Clarkson

* * *

Willis Todd wasn't a fan of news. The man could care less about what happened around the world. As long as he could find targets to pickpocket, he wouldn't starve to death any time soon.

However, Willis watched the news during his days in prison. Life in prison was boring. He was not allowed to do a lot of things as a prisoner. Watching the news was one of the activities he could do without causing a scene.

It was how he knew his son was adopted. During the first six months of serving in the prison, Willis had received the news of his wife's death from a friend. He was not worried about his son's whereabouts even if his friend told him about the boy's disappearance.

He wasn't a good father. Willis knows. However, he did what every father would do - he taught his son how to survive on the streets. The boy was blessed with the skills of pickpocketing, burglary and scamming. He could survive on his own without his mother. Willis was confident about it.

However, the man had never expected to see his son being adopted by Bruce Wayne. Emotions came rushing through his mind like adrenaline as he was shocked by the news.

The news showed a video where Bruce Wayne went shopping at a local comic store with Jason. When they walked out of the shop, they were holding a stack of comics in their hands.

The news also showed an interview which contained Bruce Wayne announcing his official adoption of Jason.

The camera zoomed towards the boy sitting next to the billionaire. His messy hair was gelled up. His skin -- often covered in dirt and bruises -- were clean and smooth like a newborn. His teeth were perfectly white. He was also smiling bashfully on the camera.

 _'This is not Jason.'_ It was the first thought which came to Willis's mind.

Jason was a bitter child. He didn't know how to get on someone's good side. He said the word 'fuck' like it was an ordinary thing to do. He didn't like to smile. He always wore a nasty scowl on his face. He also has a bad temper.

Willis tried. He really tried to act like a father figure. However, no matter what he'd done for Jason, the boy always seemed unsatisfied. If your child didn't appreciate what you had done for them -- how could you love them?

How did his child change? How  _dare_  he change? While his father was serving time, how could that brat enjoy a life of luxury?

_How dare he?_

Once he was released from prison, Willis did research. He tried to track down Jason's whereabouts. Since the boy was now known as the adopted child of Bruce Wayne, it wasn't hard for the father to find his son. It only took three days for him to earn information on which school Jason was attending now.

Willis sat on the bench in front of the school. A lit cigarette hung lazily between his lips. He was dressed in the best clothes he had. However, he still couldn't blend into these surroundings. The suspicious gazes from the security guard prove the point.

 _'This is why I hate coming to places like this.'_ Willis thought. He rolled his eyes as the guard shot him another glance.

He could take this opportunity to pickpocket the rich children. However, he had better things to focus on.

The bell rang. Within five minutes, students were walking out of the school gates. Willis ignored the wary stares of the kids. His eyes scanned the crowd of youngsters in hope to find his son.

His eyes stopped on a boy. It wasn't Jason. However, Willis recognized him as someone who stood beside Jason during the interview.

Richard John Grayson.

He was one of the other adoptive sons of Bruce Wayne. The child of the Flying Graysons. A talented young acrobat who'd lost his parents due to a misfortune.

"Hello." Willis feigned a friendly smile. The boy turned his head. His brows raised in question at the sudden greeting.

"Do I know you...?" Dick questioned. He didn't recognize the stranger as someone he had met before. However, the adult seemed friendly.

Before Willis could reply, a voice interrupted him.

"Come here, Dick. You don't have to associate yourself with this man."

Willis looked over his shoulder. Standing behind him was none other than Bruce Wayne. The man was dressed in a finely tailored suit He looked like he sweats money, just the way he was shown on the television. However, his lips were set on a thin line --- not showing a hint of emotions.

"Mister Wayne." Willis greeted. He reached a hand out for a friendly shake. The billionaire nodded his head in acknowledgement, which indicated he had heard his address. However, he did not avert his gaze from his son to the man who stood next to him. He didn't shake the hand either.

Willis watched in quiet fascination as Dick walked towards his guardian. The boy looked over his shoulder. He wondered who the stranger was. If Bruce decided to interrupt their conversation, it could only indicate that the man isn't a good person.

Bruce lightly squeezed Dick's shoulder. His gaze was gentle when it was directed towards his son. A soft smile curled up on the thin line of his lips as he ushered the boy into the black Lamborghini.

When Willis saw the smile on the man's face, he frowned. The media judged Bruce Wayne as a Casanova. A stern businessman. The reality seemed completely different if what Willis was witnessing wasn't an act.

Once Dick sat in the car and the door was closed, Bruce turned his attention back to Willis.

"I know who you are." His gaze was cold as he looked at Willis. "You aren't welcome."

Willis reassessed his impression of Bruce Wayne. He straightened his pose to seem more intimidating. With a deep inhale, he gathered his courage to reply.

"I have the right to see my son, Mister Wayne."

"Your son?" Bruce was unamused. "Mister Todd, you gave up the right to call yourself a father years ago. Your parental rights were terminated when you abandoned him."

"I didn't abandon him, Mister Wayne." Willis protested. "I was serving time in prison when you adopted him. If anything, you are the one who my child away without my permission."

At this moment, Bruce is surprised that he managed to keep a straight face. He wanted to roll his eyes and scowl at the ignoramus, this man who dared to claim Jason as his child. However, Bruce knew he had to think twice before taking any actions. After all, he is a public figure in Gotham.

"He lived on the street," Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against his car. "Bruised. Hungry. Malnourished. Nearly freezing to death. I give him a home. I give him everything you didn't give him."

"There are things you couldn't give him, Mister Wayne---"

"He doesn't need anything from you," Bruce interrupted. "If we must really talk about this issue of me taking over your rights as a parent, we could always talk about this in court, Mister Todd."

"Bruce?"

The moment when Willis heard the familiar child's voice, his breath hitched. Despite all his misgivings to the boy, an unknown feeling of familiarity and longing to be included in his son's life took over him.

"I'm sorry for being late," Jason sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Miss Oakley nagged me about my unfinished homework."

Jason expected Bruce to frown and reprimand him. However, the adult didn't. The boy glanced up, seemingly surprised. "What's wrong? You're so quiet that it's freaking me up, old man."

Bruce looked torn up. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to protect Jason from his past. Yet at the same time, he knew he shouldn't lie to the boy. Bruce hesitated. It didn't take him long to place his hand on Jason's shoulder and pull the boy closer to himself.

"Jason," he began. "This is Willis Todd. Your father. He came to ask for you... to live with him."

Jason glanced over his shoulder. It had only been three years since he left the dirty street he'd once called home. However, his father's appearance seemed foreign to him.

The boy didn't make a scene. He didn't cry or throw a tantrum. Instead, he looked thoughtfully at Willis before he turned his attention to Bruce. "A father is someone who loves you and stays by your side, right?"

A little curious about where Jason is trying to hint, Bruce nodded.

"A father provides food and shelter for his children. He also makes sure they are safe under his protection. When you cause troubles, he will reprimand you. Right?"

Bruce nodded again.

"Then he's not my father," Jason concluded. His hand grabbed Bruce's as he looked into the adult's eyes. "He lost his right to call himself as a father when he abandoned me on the streets. He may be the one who allowed me to exist. But he isn't my father."

Jason didn't bother to spar Willis another glance. "The closest thing I have to a parent are Alfred and you, Bruce. You gave me a home. I know I am a problem kid. But you cared for me nevertheless."

Willis watched Jason in an open-mouthed shock. Bruce, on the other hand, recovered from his surprise at a quick pace. Pride filled within him from his son's speech.

"Let's go home, Bruce." Jason tugged on Bruce's hand, guiding the adult towards the car forcefully.

* * *

The entire drive home had been quiet. No one dared to speak or question the scene which unrolled before their eyes at the front of the school.

However, once they reached home, Alfred had asked Dick and Tim for help in babysitting Damian and preparing dinner. Bruce stayed behind in the car along with Jason. Once everyone was gone, Bruce gets up from his seat and approached Jason.

"You were really cool just now. You know?" He wrapped his arms around the child, pulling him into his embrace.

Jason nodded. He rested his head on Bruce's shoulder. Tears started to form in his eyes and slipped down his face. There was a moment of silence before Jason speak up.

"I hate him." His hands held a tight grip on Bruce's shirt. "I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him for thinking he could just appear and make everything fine again. I hate him for thinking he could ruin my life again. I hate him... I hate the fact he's my father..."

Bruce listened in silence at Jason's venting. He patted the boy's back to calm down his unstable emotion. Before long, the words dissolved into quiet sobs. And still, Bruce stayed silence.

When the sobs died out, the first reaction Bruce showed to Jason was to smile and brush his messy hair. "This reminded me of the other day when Damian woke up from a nightmare. He had his hands on my shirt, refusing to let go. I can't see the difference between you and him, Jason."

A watery laugh escaped through Jason's throat. It was a poorly attempted joke. However, it still made the boy felt better. "I don't remember acting like a baby, old man."

* * *

"Do you love me?"

Bruce blinked once, mystified by the words he had just heard.

"What sort of question is that, Jason?"

"I am problematic. I'm not talented like Dick. Or smart like Tim. I'm not even related to you like Damian----"

"Jason." Bruce interrupted. His tone is stern. He didn't like how the boy seemed insecure about his worth in his heart.

Jason is a stubborn boy. It took a lot of courage for him to admit how he feels and to speak out his insecurity. Bruce could only imagine how heavily the impact of Willis's arrival had hit Jason.

"Does it really matter? The entire blood-related issue." Bruce sighed. "Just a few months ago, I didn't even know I had a son -- a blood-related one. Damian's arrival won't made me love you nor the others any less. It only made me try harder to become a better parental figure."

The sudden realization strikes him.

"You are jealous? Of an infant?" Jason's silence had answered his question. Bruce had a hard time trying to stop himself from snickering. " _Seriously_?"

Warmth started to spread over Jason's cheeks. The composure he felt minutes ago was gone and replaced by embarrassment. "S-Shut up, old man!"

* * *

  **Three years ago.**

* * *

_It was a quiet night. The windy breeze brushed past the small figure of a boy. Shivers shook his spine. Even if the night was cold, the little thief couldn't sleep in peace._

_Jason could throw a few punches. However, he was weak compared to a gang of adults. The only way he could survive on the streets was to sneak out during the night and steal._

_Tonight, he didn't know what had come over him. He blamed the cold weather for his crazy thoughts. No one in their right mind would think it a good choice to try and steal the tires of the Batmobile._

_It was the last tire he was unscrewing when Batman came back. An ordinary child would have cried when they were glared at by those eyes. Jason was not an ordinary boy. He was being treated like he was the lowest scum on the street. He fought guys all the time who were bigger than him. A simple bat glare wasn't going to make him fear for his life._

_He glared back at the cloaked figure who watched his every action. When the vigilante's eyes met Jason's, the boy found understanding in them. It almost seemed like Batman had seen the hardships he'd experienced._

_He listened to his intuition. Jason accepted Batman's offer to give him a ride._

_Who would have thought a ride on the Batmobile would lead a street rat to a better life?_

_Definitely not Jason._

* * *

_**To be continued.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many people thought I left this story to rot and be forgotten...? I **_DEFINITELY_** didn't forget this story. However, the story was a cluster mess since I didn't write the plots down back in 2017. For the loyal readers, you knew that I had important exams last year which really messed my brain up. So I had actually forgotten most of the plots in this story and even 'till now, I am still desperately... trying to regain what I had planned out in this story. 
> 
> Meanwhile, if you are interested to read more of my writing, please do read [Possession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090464/chapters/29947641). I might post the next chapter of the story soon. It is either within this week or next week. 
> 
> P.S: I am also currently working on a pwp story of Superbat. Currently struggling through the nsfw part because this is the first time I write smut and I FEELS SO AWKWARD, OMG. ⊙︿⊙


	13. Chapter 13

He adopted a role  
Called being a father   
So that his child would have   
Something mystical and infinitely important:

A protector

by Tom Wolfe

* * *

"Do you think he is alright?" Jason leaned forwards to the front seat and asked.

They had stopped at a petrol station since they are running out of fuel. While everyone stayed in the car, Tim had excused himself to the washroom. Ten minutes passed, but there are no signs of the boy coming back.

"You know," The lack of reply from Bruce confused Jason. "It has been quite a while. Maybe you should check on  him."

"This happened last year as well, Jason." Bruce shrugged his shoulders.

Jason furrowed his brow. Bruce's attitude was unsettling. _What the hell was wrong with Tim and the old man?_ Jason knew that it was a depressing day. But did it mean everyone had to act like they were suffering from constipation?

"And you never asked Tim?" Jason stared into Bruce's eyes through the back mirror. Narrowed blue glanced back and forth, refusing to meet  Jason's sharp gaze.

With an exasperated sigh, Jason leaned back in his seat and kicked on Bruce's. "You know what? You should honestly go and check him up! He might have drowned in the toilet bowl for all we know!"

* * *

Bruce stared at the door in front of him. He had been standing in front of the washroom for a minute now. Any more seconds passing by with him standing in front of the toilet is going to make him seem suspicious. Clearing his throat, Bruce knocked on the door twice.

"Tim," He called in a concerned tone. "Is everything alright?"

There was no reply from the other side. Bruce leaned closer and knocked on the second time. "Tim, I know you are in there. Open the door and let's talk. Okay?"

"O-Okay..." The reply was weak and soft. Bruce listened as the boy shuffled behind the closed door. Then, the door creaked open. Tim slowly walked out. The boy wiped his hands on his pants. His gaze was on the floor. Instantly, Bruce frowned at the sight in front of him.

"Tim?" When he called, the boy did not raise his head. His gaze was still on the floor, his hands grasped around his pants. The only option left for Bruce was to crouch down and get a better look at Tim's face. Then, Bruce finally noticed the boy's puffy eyes.

"Tim," Bruce's tone is gentle as he cupped the child's cheeks in his palms. Slowly, he guided Tim to look into his concerned gaze. "You don't have to hide this from us. We understand."

"I... I don't want to make everyone worried..." The tears were starting to form in the boy's eyes again. Instantly, Tim lifted his arm and wiped them away. "I am okay, Bruce. Really. But my heart hurts. It feels like if I buried this feeling underneath any longer, I might suffocate. I still remember them in my mind. And it hurts to think about them."

Bruce couldn't help but blame himself for Tim's sorrow. How could he not notice the change of behavior in the boy on this day? How had he been foolish enough to think a nine year old would be okay on the anniversary of his parent’s deaths?

How could he be so blind?

"Why didn't you tell me?" With his thumbs, Bruce wiped the tears from Tim's eyes. "We could talk through this. It will make you feel better once you talked about how you feel."

"Because I would have made you worried." Tim's voice is timid as he fidgetted his thumbs. " I don't want you to see me cry and grew concerned. It isn't a big deal. And you had a whole lot to worry aside from me."

Bruce blinked his eyes. He was taken aback by the sudden confession. With a chuckle, he tousled Tim's hair. "This is where you are wrong, Tim." The child tilted his head up in confusion at the words.

"Family will always come first, before anything. I have been there, Tim. The reason I could walk out of my sorrows was due to Alfred's company. Just like how Dick walked through his sadness because we were all there for him." Bruce leaned forward, pressing a kiss on Tim's forehead. "That's why, you should talk with us too, Tim. You shouldn't hide in the washroom and cry. We are your family. Right?" He winked at his last statement, which caused the boy to crack a smile.

"So, it is okay for me to cry?"

"Of course it is." Bruce nodded. "If you are upset, no matter how small the issue is, you should let those feelings out. It is not good to suffocate yourself with the negativity. You can talk with Dick and Jason, or..." He looked aside, scratching his cheek nervously. "You can even talk to me, Tim. We are a family. We would never want to see you sad. But today is different. You are allowed to feel low-spirited. And it is okay to let us know you are upset. We will help you walk through the sorrow. "

"Bruce?" Feeling encouraged, Tim called out.

"Yes?"

"Do you think, if my parents are still here, they would be proud of who I am today?"

Bruce didn't expect to hear such a question. As an adult, he thought about it too. A lot, if he must be honest with himself.

Would his parents be proud of his dedication towards Gotham or be saddened by the fact he had become a vigilante?

His parents disliked violence. Knowing them, they would not be happy with how he is risking his life every night. His parents would want him to live a normal life --- get married and have a child of his own.

He couldn't fulfill their wishes. He had his responsibility as the protector of Gotham now. However, Bruce knew his parents would be glad to see him having a family of his own.

"I am sure your parents are proud of you, Tim. Because I feel the same way too."

The corner of Tim's lips slowly widened into a grin. The boy leaped forward, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck. His face pressed into the man's shoulder blade. "Thank you, Bruce."

Bruce replied by hugging Tim back. "Your parents loved you very much, Tim. They just didn’t have the chance to show it to you. You know that more than any of us." He felt the child nod his head, but he did not loosen his grip.

All Bruce could do was to wrap an arm around Tim's back. His arm around the small frame and his other hand settled under the child's bottom, Bruce slowly stood up, taking Tim in his arms.

He walked back to the car. Everyone looked at Bruce in concern. Tim was still snuggling close in his embrace. The child was unaware of the worried gazes of his brothers.

_We are not talking about this._

Bruce raised a hand up to stop the two boys from coming out from the car. Tim didn't seem to notice the gesture as he continued to lay close in Bruce's warm embrace.

The last thing the boy needed right now was the embarrassment of letting somebody else see him in his current state. Tim would talk with his brothers when he was comfortable doing so.

* * *

After another thirty minutes of the ride, the cemetery had finally come into view. Bruce parked the car in the deserted parking lot. While Jason and Dick left, Bruce stayed behind. Looking over his shoulder, he took notice of Tim who had fallen asleep.

Bruce hesitated. The child looked exhausted and deep in his nap. It made Bruce wondered if Tim had caught any sleep last night.

"Tim," He called gently, shaking the boy awake.  "We have arrived. Wake up."

It took a few minutes for the child to recover his consciousness. Bruce waited patiently. Once Tim was ready, the two left the car together.

Their eyes locked for a moment before Bruce took Tim's hand in his.

"Let's go."

* * *

Jason and Dick had helped cleaning off the dried leaves at the gravesites. Tim was embarrassed upon seeing the sincerity from his siblings.

He looked up at the adult, searching for guidance from him. With a gentle push to his back, Bruce guided Tim to stand in front of the tombstones.

In loving memory of  
Jake Drake   
19xx - 20xx

In loving memory of  
Janet Lynn Drake   
19xx - 20xx

The boy lay the bouquet of flowers down on the graves of his parents. Bruce had chosen white lilies, which Tim was thankful for. The flowers held the symbol of peace, and they were also his mother's favorite.

Tim reached his hand out, caressing the engraved name on one of the stones.

"Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad. It's been a long time."

The breeze was relaxing. It was springtime now. The wind wasn't too humid, nor was it too cold. The warmth of spring always gave something to cherish for all life. And for Tim, it was the memories he used to share with his parents.

He had a new family now. He’d started a new life ever since Bruce adopted him. But he would never forget who he once was.

"I hope both of you are doing fine... up there." The words are foreign as they rolled out of his tongue. "I am fine. Bruce and Alfred took good care of me. And I have siblings now. So, I am not alone." A small smile curved the thin line of Tim's mouth.

Everything seemed silly. There was no way his words could reach his parents. He didn't believe in the afterlife.

But it did make Tim feel better. It made him realize there was a connection between his new family and him.

His parents couldn't spend their time with him. He’d always felt alone as the only child. Now, he had a father who came home every day. He had siblings who kept the house lively.

Everything was different. But there are things which can't be replaced.

"It is almost four years since you left. I miss you two so much." Tim's lips quivered. Tears were starting to form in his eyes, but the boy wiped them off. "But I know I have to move on. I know you would have hoped that I could stay strong. I will. Don't worry about me. I hope you will watch over me. Wherever you are, Mum, Dad."

His hand slowly slid down from the tombstone. Tim sighed deeply, trying to calm his emotions. Even if Bruce said it was okay to mourn, he felt embarrassed to do it in front of his family. Besides, he couldn't stay gloomy for the whole day. Everyone would be worried about him.

Tim took a final deep breath as he slowly tilted his head up. This time, there was no trace of sadness left on his face.  He looked over his shoulder at Bruce, who placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I am feeling better now. Thanks for the advice."

There was nothing Bruce could do, but smile proudly and tousle Tim's hair as a sign of affection.

* * *

There wasn't much cleaning left to do. The only chore left was making sure there is no wild grass growing around the tombstones. It didn't take long for the family of four to finish their cleaning.

Now, the boys were nowhere in Bruce's sight once they had finished their chores. The adult could still hear their laughter briefly - which meant they were somewhere close to him.

Bruce was standing in front of the tombstones of Tim's parents. From afar, it seemed like he was praying. But the truth was, he didn't do anything. Five minutes passed before the adult finally spoke.

"Tim is a good boy. I am sure both of you know about this." From the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed a stray leaf which the boys had missed. Bending down, he picked it off and held it between his fingers, twirling it. "But he is growing up too soon. I don't want that to happen. I wish he could enjoy his childhood a little more. He is only eight - well, almost nine by now." He chuckled at his own comment. "He deserves to act a little spoiled, like the kids around his age should. But no matter how he turns out, I promise to love and protect Timothy in your place. "

Bruce pulled out his wallet. He opened it, and a family photo came into view. It was the picture taken three years ago - when he’d only been Tim’s adoptive father for half a year.

He took out the photo and tugged it in the ribbon of the bouquet of lilies. "This is a little gift for both of you. I hope you will allow me to take care of Timothy for as long as I can."

He closed his eyes, giving out a silent prayer. At the moment, a sudden warm breeze blew over him. Bruce drank in the spring warmth as he slowly stood up.

He wondered if he could consider the breeze as a sign of acceptance from Tim's parents. Normally, Bruce didn't believe in spirits. But, if they did exist, he wished Tim's parents could finally rest in peace after knowing their boy had found a new family who loved him.

* * *

_**To be continued.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, a few months had passed since the previous chapter. The next chapter would be Bruce bonding over with baby!Damian. Then, afterwards, I would be focusing on the relationship progress between Clark and Bruce. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Brahm's Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjeBg85JPrI) is the song which Bruce is singing to Damian.

_“I thought about quitting, but then I noticed who was watching.”_ \- Unknown.

* * *

The peaceful morning air of 5.30 a.m was shattered by a sudden shrill wailing. The source of the cries came from the youngest member of the Wayne family.

Damian's soft tufts of black hair stuck up all over the place. His eyes shut tight as he let out a high-pitched shriek.

Bruce, who slept on the bed stationed a few feet from the baby crib, struggled to fight off the temptation of sleep. Slowly, he sat up and groaned out in exasperation. As he rubbed his sleepy eyes, his attention drifted towards the digital clock on his nightstand.

Five thirty in the morning.

It was too early to wake up, especially for Bruce who had only slept for two hours.

It took a few minutes before Bruce finally gets out of the bed. Grudgingly, he walked over to the crib.

Despite Bruce's appearance, Damian was still crying his eyes out.

With a deep sigh, the father lifted his son up. He checked on the boy's diaper, but it didn't seem like Damian had wet it.

Bruce cradled Damian close to his heart. He mumbled gentle whispers of comfort as he rocked his son back and forth.

Despite the attention and comfort, Damian did not stop crying. Bruce was starting to grow frustrated.

He was too tired to deal with all of this. The fresh injuries he’d received during his night patrol were starting to ache again.

He was exhausted and wounded.

Moments like this always made Bruce felt helpless and he didn't know what to do.

With his son in his arms, the father walked back to the bed. Sitting down, he placed Damian on his lap and started to sing a lullaby.

"Lullaby, and good night, in the skies stars are right..." Upon hearing his voice, Damian cracked a teary eye open. His wailing started to slow down. Bright green eyes looked up at Bruce in pure curiosity.

Seeing the effect of his singing, Bruce feigned a tired smile to his son.

As a child, Bruce remembered hearing his mother humming the same song to him every night. It was a nostalgic song, filled with plenty of pleasant memories of his mother.

"Lullaby, and goodnight, you are mother's delight," Unintentionally, Bruce's voice stumbled over the word 'mother'.

Damian, impossible as it may have been, seemed to have noticed Bruce's sudden insecurity. He had stopped crying,  his eyes staring wide at his father.

Damian couldn't talk. However, it seemed he could sense the negativity Bruce was experiencing.

"... it's okay, Damian..." Bruce brought his son close to his chest.  His palm rubbed soothing circles on the child's back.

He shouldn't.  
He can't.   
He won't allow his negative emotions to affect Damian.

"I'm okay," Bruce assured. However, the adult wondered if he is actually comforting his son or himself. "I'm okay. Everything is okay. Just focus on my voice, Damian."

He was relieved to see the child's eyelids begin to drop.

"I'll protect you... from harm... a-and you'll wake in... my... arms..." This time, when Bruce stopped, he couldn't continue the singing. There is a lump stuck in his throat, trying to escape.

Damian, who was almost asleep, sensed his father's distress. The boy's eyes started to fill with tears. And then, he began to wail again. His body wriggled around in Bruce's arms, causing the adult to become worried about the possibility of dropping his son.

He stared down at the crying infant. Bruce didn't know what he should do. Damian was fed an hour ago. The diaper was dry. His temperature was stable. There were no symptoms of illness.

He was just crying for no reasons.

Bruce felt like he had done everything he could. However, it didn't seem like Damian was satisfied.

_What else do you want from me?_

 

As he watched those tears running down Damian's cheeks, Bruce's tolerance snapped.

His shoulders started to shake. His vision was blurred out all of sudden. As his son continues to cry, the tears in Bruce's eyes flowed out and trailed down his face.

"... I'm sorry..." Bruce whispered under his breath, choking on his tears. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Damian. I am not a good father."

Bruce was frustrated. There was no other way to indicate his current feeling.

He wasn't prepared for this.

When he was given the responsibility of taking care another child, he wasn't expecting to become a father of an infant. Alfred and the boys helped him as much as they could. He was grateful for their help. However, times like these, when he was alone and helpless --- it made him feel overwhelmed.

Bruce wondered if he was doing the right thing. Damian's wailing caused him to wonder if he is holding the child in the wrong way. Or worse, maybe his son feels insecure around him.

Bruce felt guilty. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, there will be a void within Damian which he couldn't fill it.

It was the void which craved for the love of a mother who was supposed to be here with him.

Talia is stubborn. Nothing could stop her from achieving her goals, not even Bruce or Damian. The day when she arrived, Bruce had let go of his pride and grabbed her wrist. He had asked for her to stay, for the sake of their child.

However, Bruce knew, there is no way he could lock Talia down. Even if he asked her to stay, forgive her mistakes in the past, giving the chance to each other to rebuild the broken relationship for the sake of Damian --- he doubts Talia would abandon her current lifestyle and have a new beginning with him.

He is the only one who Damian could depend now. He has to be strong. For the sake of his child.

"Look, I am not a good father... but I am trying my best, Damian."

Bruce wiped his tears dry. Leaning down, he kissed Damian on the forehead. The baby looked up at him. The tears were blurring his sight, but Bruce's gesture has managed to calm him down.

"I'm sorry for being weak, my son. But it's okay. For your sake, I will stay strong."

With a deep sigh, Bruce started to rock Damian in his arms again. He started to sign the lullaby again. However, this time, his voice didn't tremble. Slowly, Damian's eyes began to close. By the time Bruce lay the boy on the time, he was already asleep.

With a sigh of relief, Bruce lay down on the bed and curled up next to his son.

How much will he gave up for Damian's innocence to stay?

Bruce didn't attend parties as much as he does in the past. He hasn't been on a date for months. He hasn't had a taste of alcohol in the longest time in his life. Drinking coffee in the night is a crime now. Night patrolling and work is only allowed until 2 o'clock in the morning with no excuses accepted.

Gosh, he should probably be thankful that Alfred is still allowing him to go on night patrol. If he had the tiniest desire to quit as Batman, Bruce is sure that Alfred would be the first to support his decision.

He barely has any time for himself now. He had sacrificed a lot for his children, especially Damian. And yet, Bruce could never bring himself to rescind his fate.

In just a few months, Damian has become the precious little boy of the family. Every day, the child is surprising Bruce by learning something new. As his father, Bruce couldn't afford to miss any important milestone in his son's life.

“Goodnight, Damian.” He whispered. “I love you.”

* * *

When everyone had sat down on the dining table, they noticed that Bruce and Damian were not around. Dick was the one who went to wake the father and son.

And then, this is the scene which the teen saw when he arrived at Bruce's room.

Even in his sleep, Bruce's arms encased Damian in an embrace. The sight caused Dick to chuckle as he took out his phone and took a picture.

Bruce looked exhausted. The dark circles underneath his eyes were visible. More wrinkles had been forming at the corners of his eyes for a few months now. However, Bruce was also looking happier compared to the time when Dick first met him.

Damian was awake. Curious green eyes were staring down at Bruce's face. His chubby fingers tapped the adult on the face. The baby was making soft gurgles with a constant babble of incoherent words which included 'Dada' and 'Papa'.

But Bruce was showing no sign of waking up.

Dick walked over to the corner of the bed, picking Damian up. The boy turned his head over his shoulder. Then, he squealed happily when he saw Dick.

The teen placed a kiss on his baby brother's forehead before he leaned him against his left shoulder.

"Sleep tight, Bruce," Dick whispered as he pulled the blanket over the adult's shoulders.

"Well then!" Once he was out of the room, Dick turned his attention towards Damian. "Let's go, my baby brother! We should let Bruce sleep for another few hours. Alfred had prepared mushed banana for you!"

As a part of the family, Dick understands that these are the little things he could do, to make things easier for Bruce.

* * *

_**To be continued.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised that the next chapter will be based on Clark and Bruce, but I decided otherwise after watching Infinity War. So, in the next chapter, a **_certain_** Marvel character and their kid is gonna meet up with Bruce and the boys. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️WARNING: This chapter contained crossover between Marvel and DC. The jokes directed to the characters are pure entertainment and held no illness towards either of the fans. Thank you.

“He was our father --- no one man can replace him.” - Isaac Abraham

* * *

Toy stores. They were heavens for children. A kid -- _no matter how well-behaved they are_ \-- loses their angelic form and becomes a demon spawn when they are allowed to step into the holy land.

Children will do anything to force their parents to buy a toy they want. Throwing tantrums, lying on the ground as they screamed their lungs out... and the list went on.

This was why parents would avoid walking into a toy store at all cost unless they were prepared to spend their money on a few pieces of plastic.

Bruce, being the father of four juvenile boys, was no exception.

"I am **_not_ ** buying anything." The adult's tone was stern as he started to walk towards the exit, ignoring the dissatisfied groans from his sons at the back. "All of you are given **_one minute_ ** to put the toys back to their actual place. I will be waiting in the car. If you're not out of the store within three minutes, I am leaving without you boys."

He was set up by Jason. He should have seen through the lie the sneaky boy was telling when he said he’d desperately needed the bathroom. Jason had been trying to get him to buy a toy for **_months_ **. Normally, Bruce would make a deal with his kids whenever they requested a toy.

A good result in their school exams would usually seal the deal, especially if the boy was Jason. However, what the boy wanted was an **_Iron Man_ ** mask. And due to personal reasons, Bruce was persistent with not getting one for his son.

The boys had always been big fans of superheroes. Their obsessions changed all the time. It was not a rarity for Bruce. He was getting used to the fact that he wasn’t the superhero his kids would adore. He understood how bland he seemed compared to those heroes with superpowers.

Not to mention, the boys knew who it was behind the Bat mask. It had wiped away all their wonder for the Batman.

In their eyes, he was not a vigilante or superhero. He was Bruce, their father. And they had seen him with and without his cape. It didn't interest them as much as the superheroes they did not know personally.

"But Bruce--! Look at the details on this mask!" Tim, who desperately wanted the toy as much as Jason, suddenly crowded. "It can glow if you switch it on! It looks just like the real one that Iron Man wears! Can we get it? Please? It's so cool!"

"Tim." Bruce let out a sigh. He felt **_slightly_ ** betrayed, especially when his most obedient son had decided to stand against him as well. "I could understand when you boys idolized the heroes with superpowers. But... **_Iron Man_ **? I can't understand the fascination, boys."

The man is no different from himself, aside from the flamboyant iron costume which Bruce would never understand. Oh well, he isn't an attention seeker like Tony Stark, anyway.

"Well..." Tim looked over at Jason, trying to find a reason to convince Bruce. His older brother scratched his cheek, furrowing his brow as he tried to find a proper reason for Bruce to purchase the Iron Man mask for them.

"We are... impressed with those cool high-tech armors and robots of his...?"

Although Jason seemed hesitant about his answer, the reply only managed to make Bruce feel more betrayed than before. " **_Are you serious_ **? "

 _I have_ ** _plenty_** _of high-tech weapons which were_ ** _destroyed_** _by you, boys._

"... whatever..."

If he decided to voice his displeasure, he might seem petty to his sons. "My decision is final. We are not getting any toys. We are going home **empty-handed**. Put those toys back where you found them. Dick? Let's go back to the car."

Just as Bruce turned his attention towards his eldest son, who was supposed to be taking care of Damian, he was met with another scene which made him doubt if he was the actual parent of these boys.

Damian was cuddling with a black, panther plush toy. Although Dick tried to convince the boy to loosen his grip on the doll, it doesn't seem like Damian was going to. Not any minute soon.

Bruce used to think that Damian was a smart baby who managed to recognize him underneath his mask. But maybe, just a cruel probability, his son is just fascinated by the pointy ears of his costume.

Just like the ones on the plush.  
  
"I'm sorry, Bruce. I tried my best." Dick pointed to Damian with a nervous chuckle. "He is persistent. Just like you!"   
  
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. His blood pressure was definitely rising. His head starting to ache. If he stayed one more minute in the shop, Bruce swore that he might lose his sanity.   
  
“Damian, I am not buying that. Put it back on the shelf.”   
  
When Bruce reached out to take the plush away, Damian pulled away from his extending hand and tightened his grip on the doll.   
  
"No!"   
  
It was a clear, loud response of denial. As the father, Bruce swore that he hadn't expected his precious baby boy to start disobeying his orders at this age.   
  
He was only eleven months old! That was still too early for the baby to get into his puberty stage, and Bruce isn't **_mentally_ ** prepared to have another stubborn child to deal with. His blood pressure might explode!   
  
"Yes, you will." Bruce's tone was stern. The usual gentleness and warmth he held in his voice whenever he spoke with the boy were gone. "You're still too young to deny my orders. Now, give me the plush, Damian!"   
  
With a tight grip, Bruce managed to pull the plush out of his son's grip. Then the adult realized what a grand mistake he had made.   
  
Damian's lips pursed up. Tears starting to form in the boy's eyes as he clenched his tiny fists. Then, without warning, a sudden shrill wailing erupted throughout the store.   
  
" **_NO!!!_ ** "   
  
Like a Hulk plush with a pull string, Damian shrieked loudly as he tried to wriggle his way out from the baby flings in frustration. Dick almost lost his balance due to the child's struggle.   
  
"Fine! Fine! Fine!" Mentally defeated by the boy's high pitched scream, Bruce shoved the plush back to Damian. In the progress of calming the crying child, the father of four had unconsciously agreed to buy the toys which the other boys wanted - with the addition of a scoop of ice cream for each of the boys when they were out of the store.   
  
"That will be 450 dollars, thank you."

Defeated, Bruce reluctantly pulled out his credit card for the cashier girl. When he looked over at the items on the counter, he frowned. He didn't remember agreeing to buy a Thor hammer, a Hawkeye archery set or a Captain America shield. But somehow, these items had amazingly appeared on the cashier’s desk and Bruce is too tired to argue with those sneaky boys of his now.  
  
He just hoped that the boys would promise not to shoot each other with the arrows or throw the shield around when they are in the house. Having a hyperactive acrobatic teen who would always swing around the chandeliers is more than enough. He didn’t need any more damages done to his house.   
  
“Peter, why would you want a Batman mask when you could have an Iron Man one? Look! This one can even glow!” There was a familiar voice coming from the side. Bruce looked up from the receipt he was signing, and he saw a man wearing sunglasses kneeled down before a child dressed in a Superman onesie.   
  
“But Mister Stark, you said I could get anything I want!” The young brown-haired boy pouted as he held the Batman mask close to his chest. “I even planned on going trick-or-treating as Batman. He’s the greatest detective of all time!”   
  
“Screw Batman!” The guardian rolled his eyes, putting the Iron Man mask back on the shelf. “He’s just a pervert with a weird fetish for dressing up as a Bat! I’m way cooler than him!”   
  
“I’m sorry, Peter.” A blonde lady came towards the two. Shooting a quick, stern glare at the man, the woman squatted down in front of the child called Peter. “Unfortunately, the Batcave playset was sold out. But I did get the Lego keychains for you. I thought you might like them as well.”

The boy, who was close to the edge of crying, brightened up considerably upon seeing the keychains. “That’s so cool! They have Wonder Woman, Superman, Cyborg and the Flash too! Thanks, Aunt Pepper!” He threw himself into the woman’s arms, giving her a quick embrace. Then, he happily skipped to the cashier with all of his items.

Bruce met the gaze of his fellow billionaire. After a quick stare, he averted his eyes, and Stark did the same. Bruce decided to act as if he hadn’t recognized the other man in the first place.

“Let’s go, boys. You’ve got what you want, we’re going back to the car--- wait, where is Tim?” It was only for a brief moment that Bruce had looked away from his third son, and now the child was standing behind the other billionaire. Tim’s eyes were wide with excitement as he tugged on the man’s pants.

“E-Excuse me! Are you the real Iron Man?”

“Huh? No… you’re mistaken---” Just before Tony could finish his sentence, he focused in on Bruce. And immediately, he cleared his throat. “No, you’re right, kid. I am Tony Stark, the real Iron Man. Do you want a signature?”

“R-Really?! Can I?!” With a wide grin, Tim pulled out the Iron Man mask he was holding in his arms. “Can you sign on the top of this with a permanent marker? I want to keep it forever!”

“Tim, we shouldn’t bother Mister Stark. Let’s go. Didn’t you say you wanted ice cream?”

Just as Bruce try to reach out for Tim, Dick and Jason rushed forwards. Their wide eyes filled with adoration as they started to crowd around the ‘superhero’.

“Can you sign at the back of my shirt as well, Iron Man?! I’m a big fan of yours!”

_I thought you were a big fan of Superman, Dick._

“Please show me your hand blaster thing! I’ve always been dying to see it with my own eyes!”

_You said the same thing about my utility belt, Jason!_

Feeling utterly betrayed by his own kids, Bruce could only snuggle against Damian who was very focused on chewing his Black Panther plush.

_You boys used to say I’m the coolest superhero. When did it change?_

Bruce took notice of the small child who stood behind Tony. The boy, Peter, ignored what was happening in front of him as he had found a new toy he was enamored of---a Superman school bag.

Seeing as the trio had their full attention on Tony, Bruce approached the boy. He squatted down in front of the unguarded boy and flashed a friendly smile.

“Hey, I heard that you’re a fan of Batman. Do you want to meet up with him?”

* * *

Peter hadn’t expected the Gotham billionaire to talk to him. He knew who the man was, he had seen Bruce on the TV and Bruce Wayne seemed like a friendly person. However, when the man suddenly approached him and try to talk with him, Peter was flustered.

“N-No! Wait, I mean, yes, I am a huge fan of Batman!” Peter stammered, feeling his heart beating rapidly under the gaze of the adult. “B-But I know he is a busy bat, uh, I mean man! He’s a busy guy because he’s the greatest detective, right? W-Wait, do you know Batman, Mister Wayne?”

Bruce, seemingly delighted with the boy’s answer, chuckled. “ Why yes, I do know him.” Reaching a hand out, he tousled Peter’s hair. “And I could try and ask him to take some time off his busy schedule just to meet with his little fan. What do you think, Peter?”

“R-Really?! Then can you ask him if he could give me his signature? Oh, oh! And let me shake his hand?!”  

Seeing how excited the boy was, Bruce nodded. “Maybe he could.”

* * *

That night, after getting a goodnight kiss on the forehead by Aunt May, Peter was tossing in his bed. He couldn’t sleep, adrenaline rushing in his blood as he remembered the conversation with Mister Wayne earlier that day. Peter had kept his window open just in case, hoping that it would give the bat vigilante the convenience of getting into his room.

Instead, the boy fell asleep while waiting for Batman to appear as promised. The next morning, when Peter woke up, he found himself on the bed, tucked nicely in the blanket. The windows were closed, but Peter was not disappointed when he found a shiny black batarang on his nightstand. All the sleepiness he felt was gone as he jumped out of the bed and held the batarang for a closer look.

 _For Peter Parker._ _  
_ _Sincerely, Batman._

“Aunt May! Aunt May!” The happy boy skipped out of his room with the batarang in his hand. “Look what I got! Batman gave me a gift!”

Unfortunately, Peter’s happiness was crushed when Tony found out that Batman had paid his beloved adoptive son a visit. The guardian took the batarang away, claiming that it was ‘a dangerous weapon which should be kept away from Peter’. The poor boy cried his eyes out for three days and refused to talk with Tony for a month.

That wasn’t the end of it, though.

In return for a certain vigilante’s _kind_ visit to Peter, Tony gifted the Wayne boys with a full set of Iron Man armor.

With his signature engraved as well.  

Before the boys could even touch the gift, Bruce took away the armor, claiming that it was ‘an unidentified, unreliable weapon unsuitable for children’.

_What is so great about Batman?_

_Iron Man? I’m way cooler than him!_

The exact thoughts of the two billionaires were startlingly similar as they watched their respective kids complain about having their gifts taken away by their guardians.

* * *

  _ **To be continued**_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think about the crossover? If you guys enjoy it, I might write a second part in the future. Clark is finally appearing in the next chapter again. :)

**Author's Note:**

> ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ Please kudo and comment to show your supports for the author!


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